Here's an email from Greg. He lives in Mississippi and this is a This is kind of a spooky story. It's the category would be bigfoot or dog man, or maybe both. Let's read what he says. I grew up in Natche's, Mississippi, half a mile from the Mississippi River near the Devil's Punch Bowl. The area consists of a three hundred foot tall, heavily wooded bluff that overlooks the river. It's a spot that was always good for hunting, no matter what game you were after, and there was something else living
in those woods that I couldn't quite identify. One morning, me and my cousin Buck were squirrel hunting on a ridge across the road from where we lived. We came up on a feed tree that was loaded with squirrels, so we decided to split up and headed that tree from different directions. Once we positioned ourselves, we opened fire on the squirrels and dropped forward to the ground. We were gathering up our game and thinking about how good fried squirrel and
gravy served with catthead biscuits was gonna taste when everything went dead. Silent silence always means a predator is nearby. The hair stood up on the back of our necks. As we stood up straight and listened. Somewhere in the woods nearby, we could hear a loud panting. I thought it sounded like a dog, but it had to be one heck of a big dog to pant like that. Scared the hell out of both of us. You hear that, we both asked at the same time. I saw my own fear reflected
in my cousin's eyes. We both wanted out of there, but we were smart enough donor run. We knew we'd have to slide out of those woods, making as little noise as possible. Somehow we managed that. We never saw a dog or anything else that could have made that sound. We might have convinced ourselves that it was my cousin dog. He'd sometimes run into the woods and he'd find us, but when we got back to the house, he was waiting on us on the porch. Besides, he wasn't even near
big enough to pant that loud. At that time, I couldn't have identified the panting sound on a dare. Today, I believe it was a dog man that we heard. Neither me nor my cousin ever hunted that rich alone again. Years later, my wife and my son and daughter and I were traveling from Akron, Ohio down home for our summer visit to Natchez. We were traveling down I fifty five right after sun up, not far from Memphis.
At that time, we were nearly paralleled to Sardi Slake, where swamps form on both sides of the roads, with stands of pines in the middle like islands. When I saw something big a quarter of a mile ahead. It was a big black ape looking like creature that crossed the road ahead of us in only four stripe. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. What walks on two legs and crosses that wide highway from west to east in four strides. As soon as it got across, had vanished into some thick brush
that was growing at the edge of the flooded area. And as soon as we got even with the thicket, I looked into the pines, hoping I'd get another glimpse at it, but it had vanished. Several years passed when we happened to be talking about Bigfoot across the table. Now I don't know what brought the topic up or why we were even talking about it that morning in the car that I had assumed everyone else was asleep and therefore didn't see
a thing. Imagine my surprise when my daughters spoke up that day and said, Hey, Dad, do you remember that thing we saw when we were going down to Mississippi. It was a bigfit that cross the highway, wasn't it all these years? And I thought she had been asleep. She was awake and he saw it too. There was another time it happened when I
was fourteen, and once again I was out squirrel honeing. The gullies and bayous behind my house were my hunting grounds that day, and on that morning I came up on a big footprint in the bottom of those gullies had to be sixteen or seventeen inches long, and all I could think was, Man, that foot must belong to Andre the Giant. It was a fresh print, still clearly defined, just like when my cousin and I were hunting that
day. The world went silent. I felt those same creepy crawleys worked their way up my arms and back of my neck as I got a whiff of a smell that everyone talks about. I had to fight to keep from puky. Oh, man, I don't know why these smells tick on me. It's kind of silly. I had to fight to keep from puky. I eased back out of the woods as quiet as I could, leaving that absence
of bugs and birds and critters behind me. All I had with me was a four to ten shotgun, and I was pretty sure that wasn't going to be enough. I don't know when I've ever been so scared. Okay, well, here's a man who's had three experiences in his life. A panting, heard something breathing in the woods when he was hunting with his cousin, saw something across the road, and then he's seen a track that no other animal on the planet would have, a foot that big, no nothing,
So what does that tell you? He's one of these people that just runs
across all kinds of stuff that I never see. How many do you ever wonder if you ever spend any time in the woods, do you ever wonder how many times you've walked across something that could be really clear evidence of some kind of creature living in the woods that's unidentified, like a bigfoot, like a track or whatever, like you know, you could be riding around on your four wheel or how many tracks have you run over that were just right
there and you could have taken a picture, or even if you're really really clever, you could have done a cast of it, but you ran over it with you four wheeler. How many times do you think that's happened. I don't know. Some people just have an eye for that stuff. They have a there's something about them that draws these in kind of encounters. I don't think this man's is very extreme, but that's three times in his life he's seen odd things that would probably make him, you know, believe in
these creatures. I never see anything. I want to see something. I've seen videos of things, especially Shelley Reid and Mark Knuble when they found those tracks a couple of years ago at Lamb between the Lakes. Now, that was I remember watching that video and it it almost gave me chills because I know these people. They're not they don't make anything up. They're real hard evidence people. And the water was low at Lamb between the Lakes and Kentucky
Lake or Barkley. She walked out on the mud flat. There's these giant tracks all over the place. They couldn't be faked. They're big, huge ones, and then they're small ones like you know, like maybe a mama or daddy bigfoot walking around with a juvenile or even a small you know, comparable to like our four or five year old kids walking around beside it. It's so cool. I wish I had been with them that fall. I think it was in the fall when that happened. Anyway, I'm I'm just
running on and on. Pay no attention to me who just gets fascinated with this stuff. But let's go to another story. During the nineteen eighties, I bought an old trailer from a friend. My wife and I had been married a few years at the time, and we were living in Vale, Tennessee. A Veil isn't the kind of town that sparks immediate recognition at the
mention of its name. They're less than two thousand people living there with little to do on Saturday night that doesn't involve driving over to a neighboring town. It's quiet in Veil. It's peaceful, and if that's what you're looking for, then Veil is where you'll find it. I set the trailer on the edge of the woodline on her property owned by one of my brothers. Another brother owned a trailer that sat out in front of ours. It wasn't the
kind of situation that would make anyone think bad things could happen. That's what made the event seem so much more frightening. We hadn't lived there long when my wife woke me up in the middle of the night and she was poking my back in that way that women says, boy, you'd better strap on that Superman cape right now, because I'm going to need you to hero up. But it was the middle of the night, and even Superman needs his beauty sleep. I rolled over and gave her a what to let her know
that I wasn't happy about the back poking. Did you hear that? She hissed? She was speaking at a whisper, but her wide, frightened eyes were screaming her fear at me, and my irritation melted a little. But I didn't hear anything. No, I said, before rolling back over and wrapping my pillow around my head to block out any more efforts at conversation. Listen, she said, poking me hard as she did. So why didn't
want to listen? I wanted to sleep? Please, she whined. I rolled over again and was about to tell her that I didn't hear a thing and that she should go back to sleep and let me do the same, when I heard it too. Something was running back and forth across the roof of the trailer. At that time, we had bantam chickens back then, their feisty little birds with more attitude than brains. One old rooster was the perfect example of that sort of behavior. But whatever was up on the roof
sounded like it was about his sigh. It's probably that old batting rooster, I told my wife. I saw the stricken look on her face, and I knew that wasn't going to settle her. I was going to have to get up, walk outside and stare that old rooster in the eye, just to prove to my wife that she was afraid of a bird. I'd like to think that I'm not the kind of guy who pouts and stomps his feet like a child when I'm being forced to do something that I don't want to
do. It being the middle of the night, though I wasn't thinking. I was halfway down the hallway when something lit up the trailer like a Christmas tree there was no sound of helicopters or vehicles. I don't even remember hearing the wind blow. And if it hadn't been so silent, maybe the thousand white lights shooting through the trailer wouldn't have been so bad. Who am I kidding? I was never more terrified in my life. I don't recall how
long it lasted, but I do remember one thing. The whole time the light were shining on us, whatever was up there on the roof kept moving back and forth, and when the lights went out, the walking stopped. We had a long, sleepless night after that, but whatever it was didn't come back. The next day, I asked my brother if he had seen the lights or experienced any strange roof walking. He thought that maybe I had drank too heavily the night before, or maybe that I had lost my mind.
And to this day, I'm convinced that the walking was the rooster. But there is one thing that I can't understand. With my brother's trailer being so close to ours, and with those lights being as bright as they were, how did he not see them? Oh, that's a cool story. That's kind of like a y'all. I'm sorry, I've got a rooster and two hens in my office here. I don't know if I'm turn if y'all and hear them, all right, all right, I shoot them out.
But I think this was one of those type of let me get my microphone adjusted here. I think it's one of those UFO type scenarios, almost like what was that? There was a movie with Mel Gibson. M Night Shamalan was the was the producer and director. All they're fighting aliens. I can never remember names of movies. I'm such a moron, but it's a great movie. It's a scary movie about aliens, crop circles and all that stuff.
And they finally come and they hear this thing running across their roof and it winds up being one of these really mean aliens that are trying to kill them. But that's what the story reminded me of. And it's really cool. I love these alien stories. They're great. So I appreciate the writer. He didn't leave a name, so I'm not gonna even worry about that. But it was a good story, so I appreciate the writer for sending it. It was great. Let's go to another one, all right,
here's an Oklahoma Bigfoot story. This is pretty good. It's kind of short, but it's good. Here in Oklahoma, people still tend to think that your nuts if you go around telling them that you've seen Harry Apes in the woods. For that reason, I've kept this secret since I was fourteen. Six years of silence is enough. I want my story told. At the time, my youth group was heading to a national forest for a weekend camping trip. I don't remember the name of the park, but I do remember
that it was two or three hours driving from home. We set up in a clearing that was surrounded by hundreds of miles of woods, and thirty yards to our left was a creek, and to our right was a concrete building built around a hole that served us our toilet. The woods weren't full of game. There were deer and bear and buy some and all those little critters that Disney likes to make characters out of, and they were all around us. It was cool if you didn't mind the bison poop in the middle of
the campsite. Drinking from the creek was off limits. The E. Coli bacteria in the water would have made anyone stupid enough to drink it. Sicker than a dog. It was the second night of the camp out. Everyone else was asleep. Most of them had gone rock climbing that day and they were tired. I woke up to nature's call, and not wanting to go to that nasty outhouse building, I decided it would be best to relieve myself behind the tent. I grabbed my flashlight so I could look out for snakes
and such, and I stepped outside. I was still half asleep, and I lifted the flashlight and shined it down toward the creek. It lit up a huge black figure that was eight feet tall and four feet wide. I was only half awake, and my first thought was that I was casting a long shadow. I waved at it, and it waved at me. It didn't move in unison with me. It moved in response to me, but my mind wasn't functioning properly, so it only served to confirm that I was
looking at my own shadow. I emptied my bladder and I went back to bed. Over the next week, I thought a lot about that incident, and something didn't seem right. It wasn't the handwaving aspect that finally made me realize that I was not looking at my shadow. It was the realization that the flashlight was in my hand in front of me, not behind me. And in addition to that, it would have taken a huge light from far behind me to cast a shadow that big. There was no possible way.
It wasn't until I pieced all this together that I gave serious thought to the handwaving. It mimicked me, and that shook me to my core. I remember seeing long black hair hanging from its arms and body, and I don't remember any facial features. It didn't seem aggressive. I can't help but wonder if it had been coming into camp every night and we had not known it. The fact that it mimicked me indicated it had intelligence. But whatever it
was, it wasn't just a beast. Well that's that's pretty cool. That's a full visual. I mean, I don't think this guy's mistaken at all. I think he's I think he saw a bigfoot. I think he walked down to go to the bathroom, and I guess the backdrop of maybe moonlight or whatever, he could see the outline of a dark form that was mimicking him. He waved, it waved back. That's kind of unusual behavior for an animal, but maybe not for a bigfoot. Either way, this was
a wonderful story. I appreciate the writer sending it. Okay, this is a pretty good email right here, So have a seat and strap in. It's going to be a good a gurden. Here's what the man rights. Back when I worked in the Aura fineries in New Orleans, I met a man named Kevin. We got to be pretty good friends, and this is the story he told me. When he was ten years old, he was put into foster care. He never said why, but he liked the man and woman who took him in. They weren't mean, and nor did they
expect him to do a lot of hard work. They both worked outside of the home, so that meant that Kevin spent a lot of time at home alone in the summer, and back then a parent could do that without worrying. When he was out exploring, he found a lake beyond the woods that were behind their house. He went home and told his foster parents about it, and they told him that he could go back there and play all he
wanted. He was even allowed to swim in the lake as long as he wore a life vest and to a young boy like Kevin, that must have been paradise. The next chance he got, Kevin headed back to the lake with his life fest in tow, and when he got there, he was surprised to discover a boy and a girl already playing in the water. As soon as they saw Kevin, though, they ran into the woods and hid
well. Kevin shrugged his shoulders and he went about his business. Weren't no skin off of his nose if those kids didn't want to play with him anyway. There was a grapevine hanging from a tree that Kevin got a hold of and swung himself out over the water, and he dropped in with a big splash and had a great time. Then he climbed out and he did it again, and off in the distance, he could see those two kids watching him. Clearly they wanted to come back and join him, but they seemed
like they were a little afraid to do it. As Kevin swung out for the third time, he motioned for the two kids to come back and join him. That was all it took. Soon Kevin and his new two friends were playing around in the water like lifetime buddies. Kevin wasn't to differences between him and the other two kids. For one thing, they were completely covered in hair and they didn't wear swimsuits, and since they were playing in chest deep water, that fact didn't matter much, but it did seem odd to
Kevin, and he also noticed that they were clearly foreigners. They didn't speak a word of English. They managed to communicate just fine, though, by grunting and pointing, so that didn't matter much either. That night, Kevin couldn't wait to tell us foster mother about the kids that he had met at the lake. She asked what the kids look like, and he said they
were dark. He also explained about the language barrier. Louise, his foster mother, was happy that he had found some new playmates and that they were able to be friends despite not being able to speak the same language. Several weeks went by during which Kevin played almost daily in the lake with his new friends. They never learned to speak English and he never learned to speak their
language, but it didn't keep them from having a lot of fun. And then one day, Louise got off of work early and decided to walk down to the lake to check on Kevin. As soon as she came into you Kevin's friends ran off into the woods. Well, he called after them, but they didn't answer. He would have run after them, but Louise prevented him from doing that. Are those your friends, she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. Yeah, that's them. I don't know why they
ran off like that, Kevin said. Louise put her hands on his shoulders then and leaned down so she could look him square in the eye before saying, Kevin, Honey, them ain't children, these boogers. Kevin didn't understand what she was trying to tell him. What's a booger? Seeing the confusion on his face, Louise tried again, sweety them as monsters. Monsters, Kevin exclaimed, what do you mean monsters? Well, for instance, they don't sleep in a house, they sleep out in the woods, and they
don't wear clothes because they're all covered hair. Kevin couldn't argue that last part. He had often wondered about their situation. He couldn't help himself, though. His eyes slipped into the shadows where his friends had disappeared. They didn't seem like monsters to him at all. He liked his friends. And then Louise said one last thing. I don't want to talk about it anymore, and I don't want you going down there near them, do you hear me? To do so is to bring on bad luck? And with that,
she and Kevin returned to the house. Kevin didn't sleep that night. He had a lot to think about. His friends had never hurt him. He knew they were weird, but they were his friends and he didn't want that to change. And he decided that he wouldn't tell Louise about meeting them at the lake again. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Ultimately, he didn't have any choice in the matter. He went back to the lake every day for the rest of that summer, but the little boy and girl,
who had been his closest companions for months, they never came back. Meanwhile, Louise and her husband took on two more boys. They weren't quite as easy to handle as Kevin. They weren't troublesome kids, but they had their own set of issues. Tim who was the older of the two, tried
to get into bed with his foster parents on several occasions. It got so bad that they had to start locking their door, but that didn't keep him in his own bed, and when he found the door locked, he curled up in a bond slept on the floor in front of it like a cat. The younger one was named Mickey, and he had his own issues. Several times he would wet the bed, and it wasn't an every night occurrence,
and it wasn't a problem that he brought with him. They didn't have an indoor toilet out where their house was, and when the other two boys came to live with them, neither Mickey nor Tim had issues with grabbing a flashlight and walking the path from the kitchen door to the outhouse at the edge of the woods. And then one day, for reasons and no one could understand, Micky started wedding the bed at night. Time passed and Kevin grew up. He went his way, and Tim and Mickey went their own ways.
But they all kept in touch with their foster parents, but none of them was especially good at keeping in contact with each other. That's how it is. Sometimes. A few years before Kevin told me this story, his foster father passed away. It was the first time he had seen his foster brother in years. There was no animosity between them, so it was only natural that the three found themselves sitting together at the wake and talking over old
times out there on the farm with their foster parents. As with all funerals, there were some tea mixed with laughter and a lot of reminiscing, and a few could have beens and maybe nots. They'd been talking for quite a bit when Micky hesitantly asked a question. It was obvious that he wanted to ask it for quite some time, but he was struggling to find the right words. Have you ever? He started, and then realizing that that wasn't the right track, he began again with when you were out there? Did
you? Again? He wasn't sure he was wording the question right, so he paused, but before he could find another way, Tim said, weird stuff. Kevin and Mickey were both stunned into silence. Kevin thought immediately of a swimming buddies, but he couldn't imagine what the other two could be talking about. Weird things. Micky corrected, Yeah, weird things, agreed Tim, but Kevin didn't speak. Something in the back of his mind was telling
him that his foster brothers were not going to share swimming stories. I never wet the bed before we came there to live. Micky said, well, I mean not since I was a toddler. Anyway. He gave each of the others a long look before going on, as if to say, go ahead, challenge me. When neither Kevin nor Tim said a word, he continued, I mean, it wasn't like I enjoyed trapsing out to the outhouse in the middle of the night. But I didn't mind it either. He
looked down at the glass in his hand. There was a drink someone had handed him earlier, like he didn't know what to do with the empty drink. I kind of thought it was like a big adventure, you know, like Indiana Jones kind of stuff. It was a bad analogy, and Mickey knew it. The Indiana Jones movies didn't come along until well after they were grown. He struked that off, and he continued, there was this one night when it was storming. It hadn't started raining yet, but man,
was it like and thundering wicked. Well, I was walking to the outhouse when one really bright bolt of lightning lit up the sky like stadium lights at a Friday night football game. And it was close too, because the crack that came with it was almost immediate again. He stared into the cup, not wanting to make eye contact with Tim or Kevin. Well, I looked up and then I Micky shifted his head and formed the words with his mouth,
but no sound came out. A single piece of ice was trapped in the bottom of that cup, and he spun it around like a tiny race car on a plastic track, and after several seconds, Tim said, you saw it, didn't you. Micky's eyes moved up to meet Thames. I take it you did too, he asked. Yeah. It was tall and covered in hair, face right out of a nightmare. No one spoke, and although Kevin knew his swimming buddies weren't scary to look at, he had
long suspected that they would have been by the time they grew up. He watched him now, knowing that he would share his story too. You know how I used to sleep outside of the folks bedroom at night, Tim asked Kevin, and Mickey nodded. That thing used to look in my window. My bed was right there beside the window, except for a thin pane of glass between us. I could have reached out and touched it. It came
and looked in the window all the time. Tim and Mickey traded descriptions and recall their emotions for several minutes while Kevin listened, and when they finally exhausted themselves, he told his story. And then he told them how Louise had called them boogers and monsters and said not to speak to them because it would bring bad luck. The three left the funeral that day, promising to keep in touch and feeling a little happier for having shared their stories with each other.
Louise was happy to have them together and made them all promised to come and see her soon. Kevin did one better. He bought some land nearby and had it cleared so he could build a house there. And once the building began, he saw Bigfoot several times. It didn't surprise him at all. The lake where he had swam as a kid made up nearly half of his property. They never came too near, but Kevin found himself wondering if he had disturbed their home and if they were upset with him for having done
so. It turned out that Kevin had a coworker who held Bigfoot weekends on a regular basis, so he figured it would be safe to open up and talk about his own encounters. The man was intrigued, and he offered Kevin money to allow him to host his Bigfoot weekends on that land. Guys were paying him four hundred dollars to come out and drink beer and help themselves to his fireplace stew while he told stories, and in turn, Kevin learned about
the elusive creatures. He started leaving apples in various places in the woods, and when he came back, those apples were always gone. One weekend, he decided to tell the others what he had been doing, and while this spurred some debate, it was also a catalyst that sent everyone out into the woods to try and get a glimpse of some bigfoot. One guy saw movement and he quickly shined his light in that direction, and he was shocked to
see that there were two of them standing there. Either out of instinct or fear, or maybe he was in a full bore panic, the man pulled his gun and he shot one of them. They unleashed an angry growl and began moving through the woods, tearing through the trees and screaming. Everyone was so scared that they all ran for their vehicles. As the guy who fired his gun jumped into his a tree fell on the core. He didn't get
away. Well. That weekend changed everything for Kevin. The Bigfoot were bolder now, and they were angry, and they came up to the house at night and slammed the walls and sometimes they'd break out windows. Kevin built a safer room inside the house that he could get into and lock himself inside if they ever managed to get inside the house. And when they tore down a door and he had to test the strength of that room, he knew it was time to move. After that, the property sat empty for the most
part. It was sold a couple of times, and families would move in, but they never stayed for long. That didn't matter to Kevin. He wasn't going back there. He told me that he understood now what Louise meant when she wanted him to stay away from them. He didn't think they were automatically monsters, but he did think that if anything could bring out a monster in them, it would be a human being. And once that happened,
your luck really does run out. That was a great story, man, That's like this epic saga of these foster kids and Kevin going back and building a place. I'm not going to ruin it by adding my silly commentary. But man, what a great story. I have the man's name, but he doesn't say whether to give it or not. And he's just repeating a story that her friend told him. But whoa, this was a good one. This was a good one. Thank you for sending this story. It
was great. Thank you for joining me on this podcast. I certainly do appreciate you listening this far. We'll see you guys on the next one. Appreciate you