First Sasquatch Captured

I did that on this one. But I don't know how it happened, but I picked three of the best stories I have read in probably a year for this particular podcast. So I hope you guys enjoy this. This is a good one. This is a really good one. All right, here we go. When I was growing up, my mom and dad had a rule. When the son started to set, my siblings and I had to come inside. We had a small farm with chickens and goats and rabbits and pigs, so all of our chores had to

be done before sunset. One day, I asked my mom why I couldn't play out in the yard, and her answer sounded like a mother trying to scare her child into listening. She said it was because there were monsters in the woods that wanted to take me. I wasn't sure I believed her, but some of our animals started to disappear at night, so I didn't push it very far. My father was the president of the West Virginia Trappers Association. He had let me hunt and run traps with him

since I was eight years old. I was sure I knew every animal in our woods, but I was wrong. One day, Dad got a call from our neighbor Den, who raised a cattle. He said that one of the cows was dead and her calf was missing. Dad took me along to Den's house with him, who showed us the dead cow. There were deep scratches on her front quarter and her neck had been broken. Dad didn't know what to make of this. There was no sign of anything dragging the calf off, besides the trail leading into

the woods that connected to our property. I started to track it, but Dad and Den both yelled at me to stay put. Instead, I helped set some bear traps around the dead cow, and Dad told Den, if it comes back, these should hold it. Later that night, after dinner, I overheard my dad tell my mom that whatever killed Den's cow was probably what had been taking our animals.

Mom asked what we could do, and Dad told her about the traps that he was confident they would catch some thing and then we might finally see what was killing the animals. The next morning, Din called frantically, telling my dad that we needed to come back to where we set the traps. We went straight out to the cow, and this time my older brother joined us. We were armed, expecting to find a large bear. When we got there,

Din was at a loss for words. The dead cow was gone and there were clear large tracks leading back into the woods. Dad was furious. Our traps were gone too, and seven bear traps are not cheap. He told Den that he'd never seen anything like this. The animal had to be intelligent to spot and pull up the traps from their steaks. About that time, life got stranger. None of us kids were allowed outside unless someone was with us,

and we both had to be armed. I was eleven at this point, and I felt safe by myself, especially with my twenty gage shotgun with me, but we still had to do our chores in pairs. Well, nothing happened for about a month until one day I was out on the porch drinking a soda After feeding and watering the chickens and the rabbits, I was watching the upper field, hoping to see a deer or turkey. I remember the sun was already getting low and dusk was starting to set in. I saw what I told Mom and Dad

was a large man sneaking across our field. It scared me. He was wearing what I thought was a gilly suit. Dad immediately grabbed his rifle and yelled for my older brother Joe to grab his. They ran into the field and looked for it, but it was long gone. Later that night, we heard one of our rabbits screaming. We could hear something banging against one of the cages and making deep grunting noises. Joe and my father grabbed their

rifles and flashlights and ran out the door. I grabbed my forty four mag brush rifle and I followed them. The rabbits were going nuts and one of them was still screaming, and before I made it to them, I heard my brother scream and he started shooting. I froze in my tracks just twenty feet from the house, and I saw them running back towards me, and Dad grabbed me with his free hand and he dragged me back inside. He told Mom to bolt the doors and shut all

the windows and turn off the lights. Apparently they had pissed off whatever the thing was. No one slept that night. At first, the creature threw rocks at the house, breaking one of the windows, and there was an ungodly roar that gave us chills. Eventually the rackets stopped. We thought it was over until we heard a loud thud against the back of the house, and at the same time there was a thud at the front. I remember Dad turning white and he looked at my mother and he said,

my god, Judy, there's more than one. Mom started crying and the kids asked what it was. Dad said he didn't know, but that it looked like some kind of a giant eight. The thudding against the doors went on for hours, right up until an hour before sunrise. The next day. We went to check out the damage, and what we found was awful. There were large footprints all over the house that looked like fists. That was nothing compared to what we found when we checked our livestock.

Over thirty rabbits were dead. They were ripped in half and half pulled through the wire on their cages. Two goats were gone. There was no sign of them at all. They were just gone. One of our hogs had been killed. It's his neck was broken. Dad was furious. He called our neighbors and told them what had happened. He called two of my older brothers who had moved out, and he told them too. Everyone came over to check on us and check out the massacre, each of them as

livid as my father. Later that evening, everyone showed up again and they packed everything from twelve gate shot guns with deer slugs to high powered rifles, not to mention the pistols that were on their belts. Mom fed everyone a nice chicken dinner, and then we waited. Round ten thirty, we heard grunting coming from the woods behind the house. Knowing there would be more than one of them, three of our large group went around the house to check it out, while the rest of us waited inside at

the ready. Ten minutes later, we heard a scream. It was like a woman shrieking mixed with the bear's roar, and from the safety of the inside of a house, we heard our neighbors open up gunfire, letting off round after round until the scream turned again to a cry of pain. Then we heard a second roar so intense it vibrated our chests. It came from the other side of the house. We ran to the windows in time to see this thing tear through some of the bushes.

It had to be at least eight feet tall. And then a third, smaller one, maybe six feet tall, came running toward us. It took three rounds from us, and it turned toward the first one, who was screaming. The big one let out one more loud and long roar as it lifted its mate and barreled into the woods.

Later that morning, we found blood in several places and even tracked it for almost a mile to the stream that was running around an old strip road, and we lost it there And we never found the bodies, but I know one had to be dead. Dad contacted the DNR and reported what had happened. Two officers came and looked around. They didn't even cross the woodline. They tried to tell us that it was a bear and that they could find us if we had tried to kill it out of season. We all know what we saw

and shot, but no one believed us. Thankfully, nothing ever came back since that night, and for years after that we lived peacefully. I grew up and I moved out, and the events of that time became a memory. I'm thirty seven now, and just recently something has started taking my dad's animals again without leaving a trace. Seems the peace on the farm has come to an end. I'm afraid they're back. I grew up in central West Virginia, and my dad and I are big into coon hunting.

Almost every night during coon season we would go together and run the dogs. In the summertime, when I was on break, I would take the dogs every night to get them ready for the season. Most of the time I would take off walking, but every once in a while my dad would come with me, even if he had to work the next morning. We would take his truck. That particular night was hot and muggy, but it was clear and there was a full moon. Dad and I loaded up the dogs and set out to try to

get them to strike. That night, we treed three or four coons by one am. Seeing that we did pretty good, and because Dad had to get up in a few hours to go to work, we packed up and headed back to the house. That's when my work usually began. There were multiple things that Dad wanted done before I went to bed that night. He told me to wash out the kennels, and feed and water the dogs, and

collect the eggs from the chicken coop. Our house sat right smack dab in the middle of a holler, and on either side of the house was straight up hills into the woods. I took off and did my chores while Dad went in to go to bed. When I was done, I started walking back to the front porch, and I got a weird feeling that something was staring right through my soul. I looked to my right up the hill, and there, thirty feet higher in the trees or a set of red eyes looking right at me.

They were so big. My first thought was that it was a small airplane. I sat and stared right back at it for a few seconds, completely mesmerized, before I realized there was no way it was a plane. It was too close, they were too big, and it was far too silent. I think it was two thirty in the morning by then. I hauled my butt inside, where Dad was fast asleep on the couch, and I debated on waking him up. That was a cardinal sin in

our house. So I sat there and stared at the wall, contemplating what in the world I had just seen outside. A few minutes passed and I heard a huge bang on the roof, like a paratrooper had landed on top of the house. Once it landed, it started walking toward my parents' bedroom. It was so loud and heavy that I could hear every footstep, and once it reached the end of the house, it turned and it walked all the way back to where my room was on the

other side. About that time, I decided, screw this, I'm waking my dad up. I don't care if he will beat my butt or not. So I woke him up. I was freaking out, and he just groaned at me and he went back to sleep. I sat there the rest of the night, wide awake until we woke up for work the next morning, and when I told him what I heard the night before, he just laughed at me. He thought I was crazy. I'm in my twenties now, but ever since that night, every time I come home,

I stay inside. I barely go out at night, and Dad hasn't been able to get me to go hunting very much. Since then, no one has ever believed me. Hopefully you all will. It feels good to get it off my chest. I am a graduate of the University of Kentucky's Veterinary Medicine program. I achieved my doctorate in veterinary medicine, specializing in bovine, equine, swine, and small ruminants. After working with some older veterinarians, I was able to

open my own practice at nineteen ninety five. Later, I was offered a position with the Tennessee elk reintroduction program. In two thousand, the state reintroduced two hundred head of elk in the Northumberland Wildlife Area, fitting a portion of them with radio callers. Later in twenty fifteen, we began using implanted transmitters to help with the retention rates of the calves born each year. In the early years, we became proficient at monitoring the callers and quickly identified when

a specimen was distressed. We were able to catch several poachers in the act of illegally harvesting bull elk, and even monitored one bull elk that traveled into Kentucky and set up squattersh writes in a peaceful valley and mountain along Wolf Creek. Needless to say, Tennessee had something to say about this and had to recover the runaway and bring him back home to his family. On the morning of September nineteen, twenty seventeen, I got the call to meet a game warden and park ranger off one of

the service roads in a wildlife area. The collar of one of our bull elk was transmitting some erratic data. I was the last to arrive with my field pack and tranquilizer gun. I had three darts loaded with enough xylazine in fentanyl to immobilize a twelve hundred pound bull in a matter of seconds. This bull was over ten years old and he was one of the hurd's dominant breeders. The park ranger's name was Brian, and he had the radio telemetry equipment that detected the location of the callers

signal and the game warden. Rick was equipped with an M four rifle just in case the signal came in strong. As soon as Brian fired up his equipment showing us we were within five hundred yards of the bull, we slipped into the bush and began the trek toward him, careful not to make unnecessary noise with our approach. We were a little more than one hundred yards out when Brian said the signal was moving away quickly, as if it had hopped into a truck and was driving off.

Rick burst into action and ran forward with reckless abandon When Brian and I finally caught up with him, he was standing in a small clearing that was drenched in blood. The smaller trees had been smashed to the ground, and there in the midst of all this carnage lay a single leg bone and a hoof of our missing bull. It appeared that all the flesh was chewed off his

leg and cast aside. We all knew that this animal did not run off on its own, missing a leg to stand on, Rick again took the lead and began to track the animal, following the droplets of blood and broken twigs and tree limbs, and the moved leaf litter on the forest floor. Occasionally Brian picked up the signal again, but it would quickly disappear a moment later. Over the next four hours of playing cat and mouse, the signal came in strong and it was moving right at us.

Rick positioned himself to the side and took cover behind some down trees. Brian and I followed his lead. Ten minutes later, an older Native of American dressed in buckskins and moccasins walked out of the dark woods on his outstretched arms. He presented the collar and he said, I believe this is what you're searching for. He laid it on the ground and started to walk away. When Rick told him to stop and turn around. The older man

did what he was told, and Rick identified himself. He asked him what in the hell made him think he could just walk up and drop the collar and walk off like that. The older man looked at him, calmly in the eyes, and he said, I answer to a higher power than you. I am the uniony, the spiritual leader, and the medicine man for our people, and the one who oversees the sou Kaloo. He seemed to appreciate our confusion, and then he added, the sou Kaloo do not wish

to be disturbed. He only took the elk to feed his mate. She has recently given birth and is not ready to travel. The answer wasn't good enough for Rick. A law enforcement agent can't just take a stranger's word and call it a day. The old man could have been an innocent messenger, or he could have been trying to distract us while his poacher buddies got away with our bull. Rick asked the man, well, what is a Sukloo. The old man was patient in his response. They're the hairy,

slant eyed devils of old. Their tribe and ours have made peace many years ago, though we have yet to reach peace with the Judicula tribe. But our alliance with the Suklou keeps the Judicula away from our people. Rick called his bs. He grabbed a man's arm and swung him around and slapped a handcuff on one of his wrists. My life changed then, and there, fifty yards away, a monster stepped out from behind a tree and it roared. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in my life.

It was a train horn, an elephant bugle, and a lion's roar, all mixed into one enormous sound, and it shook through our bodies in the entire forest. The three of us were frozen. The old man didn't react at all. This creature stood over nine feet tall and was almost four feet wide, with the build of a linebacker. We could see his muscles flexing as he roared, and we

could see his large canines as his mouth widened. His hair was long, and it covered the majority of his body except for the palms of his hands and the bottoms of his feet. And his face. His face is what got me. There was a hint of something human, but also something ape or demon like. The eyes were solid black with no visible white, and the nose was flattened against his face, like a gorilla with dark gray skin pigmentation, and there was no sign of ears on

either side of its head. My instincts kicked in, as it has so many times in private practice, when a large animal became unexpectedly uncontrollable, and I took aim with the tranquilizer rifle, and I fired immediately after the first one impacted the creature, I inserted the second dart and readied myself for another shot. The beast stood stationary for twenty seconds, not seeming to know what had hit him, but realizing something was wrong, and began to fade back

into the dark woods. Brian stood there, slight jawed, not doing anything. As Rick composed himself, he handcuffed the old man's older wrists and secured him around a small tree, and he left the man there and he took the lead. Tracking the monster. We found it less than one hundred and fifty yards away, was face down in the forest floor. We approached it and the smell became overwhelming. It was a mix of rancid trash, festerring road killed sewer, and

rotten potatoes. The three of us weren't strong enough to roll it on its back, but we were able to turn its head to the side so that it didn't suffocate in the ground. Brian and Rick began taking pictures with their phones as I pulled out a specimen kit and took samples of blood and skin and hair. Within just a few minutes, this beast had already started to

regain its awareness. I gave him a shot of something to help with the opioid component of the tranquilizer, and we began our retreat, with Rick covering our backs with his M four. We moved out backwards the way we came in, and our eyes trained on the beast as we quietly slipped away, but we didn't get much of

a head start. Within seconds, the beast raised himself upright and staggered off into the thick woods like a drunk man stumbling home, picked up the pace and made it back to the area where we left the older man, but he was gone. We found Rick's handcuffs laying on the ground in a mysterious cloud of fog around the tree. We didn't know what to say, there was no sign of him anywhere. Rick said a string of curse words,

and we quickly headed back to our vehicles. Brian called the park office and informed them of what had happened, stating that we had photos and specimens to validate the existence of sisquatch, but we had a two hour walk back to the vehicles. As we walk, we discussed how we had evidence of a mythological species and that we would be featured on every TV station around the world, and we might even earn some money from all this. I was just excited that we could be able to

put the laws in place to protect these creatures. This was a green peace Christmas. Our excitement soon faded as we approached our vehicles, we saw two black suburbans with blacked out windows and government plates waiting for us. Four men dressed in black suits and wearing dark sunglasses stepped down and approached us. The one in charge presented his credentials badge, and he told us that we had a very forgettable day to day and that he needed my

field pack and our phones. They patted us down and made it clear that we had not seen a thing other than evidence that a pack of feral dogs had taken down a bull elk, and that we were not to mention anything or our jobs would be history. As they were driving away, Brian told us that he was afraid that might happen, so he emailed the photos to himself and his parents and his girlfriend in Knoxville. We

were overjoyed, but it was short lived. When I got home, I went to the and found that my email had been entirely wiped out and my eye cloud was empty as well. The next day I tracked down both Rick and Brian, who told me the same had happened to them. Brian's parents' email had been wiped out and his girlfriend's phone quit functioning. She was unable to recover anything, not even her contacts. The following week, I submitted my resignation. I didn't want to work with or for an employer

with such questionable ethics. I re established my practice as a livestock vet, and I will continue to seek the answers I want on my own, including what I have already discovered about the two tribes of Bigfoot. First, the Soux Kaloo, they simply want to avoid humans and avoid all contact. But the Judahicula are not the same. They're the evil side of Sasquatch, and we'll take a human's

life if given the opportunity. I'm unsure of the motivation behind the government's decision to keep the existence of Sasquatch a mystery, or why they would confiscate our personal property to maintain this secrecy, but I would truly like to know before I leave this world. Okay, thank you for listening to this podcast. I certainly do appreciate you, and we will see you guys on the next one. Thanks