He Killed it With a Hatchet

the Bigfoot Outlaws. This podcast features bigfoot calls and interesting lee. They come with a warning not to play them out loud and accidentally summon a bigfoot. My dog and I went to bed and I listened to the podcast with my YouTube on AutoPlay. I woke up at one am with the Bigfoot Call podcast still playing, and I cursed at myself. I turned off my phone and I went back to sleep. At three am, awoke again to the

loud sound of rock clacking. I cursed at myself again and I reached to turn my phone off, thinking what a moron I was. I tried to turn the phone off and I realized it wasn't even on it at all. A loud rock clacking was coming from the backyard through my window. Now I didn't look. My dog and I stared wide eyed at each other, terrified, and we didn't move for an hour. It all finally stopped and we

went to sleep. But I was left wondering who could clack rocks together at three am out in my backyard. I think Bigfoot may go around the neighborhood at night, searching through the garbage for food. I grew up on a small farm in southern Johnson County, thirty miles south of Indianapolis. Until the nineteen seventies, the area was nothing but farms and sparsely populated spots of homes. Nowadays, it seems there's a house on every hill that includes the

family farm I grew up on. The sixty acres at once encompass now has five homes dividing up the land. I guess that's the price of progress. The first strange experience there took place in nineteen sixty. My grandfather came over and he and my dad went to the back pasture to try to figure out what had killed one of our calves. Of course, being a curious six year old boy, I tagged along. I remember that poor calf was pretty gruesome looking. My father and my grandfather both

thought it was killed by a big cat. I remember my brother coming to the house and telling Dad that something was in the woods out beyond our pond. He never said what he thought it was, only that he must have startled it and it ran off through the thicket. In the fall of that year, we were having a family gathering at the pond when something came up to

the dam and it screamed. Our dogs stood on the bank and they were going nuts barking, but they weren't brave enough to go and chase whatever this thing was. Dad and a couple of my uncles went to the house and came back with guns, and by the time they made their way to the dam, whatever it was had left. But through all this that never stopped me from wandering through our fields and woods. I was thirteen years old when the Patterson Gimlin film came to light.

I remember reading about it in Argasy magazine, and I found the subject of Bigfoot fascinating and terrifying. I don't think I slept without the drapes closed in my bedroom window until I was in my twenties. In the early nineteen seventies, I had graduated from high school and I took a job work looking nights at a factory in Greenwood. I got off work and was usually home by two in the morning. My parents had taken a vacation and

I was at home alone. I'd just gotten home from work, took a shower, and had fallen asleep in bed when something outside let loose with a god awful growl. Whatever or whoever it was continued this growl and chatter for a good while. I rolled over and dropped to the side of my bed, and I low crawled through the house and I retrieved one of our shotguns from the hall closet, and I sat there the rest of the night, awake, alert and scared. Whatever it was it stopped and eventually

wandered off. My brother usually got home about four in the morning, and when I saw that he was up, I asked him if he had heard anything or seen anything when he got home, but he said that they hadn't, and we just left it at that. Next summer, my dad woke me up at one in the morning and handed me a shotgun. Our dogs were throwing a fit. My dad was a World War II veteran, and he did not spook easy. We went outside and he told

me to wait by the garage. Some of the dogs were barking, and some were whimpering, and some were just flat out crying. Dad went out as far as the old corn crib twenty five yards away, and then came back not long after that, and he was unnerved. We best get in the house, son, he said. The next morning, he and I both called in and didn't go to work. We found two of our dogs cowering in the barn. The third one we found back by the lake, beating up and in shock. Though he did recover. One of

the neighbors had two big german shepherds. He found one of them in the same shape. The other one he never saw again. Said what fear drove him back to the house that night, but he did utter the word bigfoot in a joking matter the next day. I doubt this is very interesting, but I'm glad to get it off my chest. After fifty years. My parents and my brother, as well as the old farm are all gone now. I still drive by there now and then. Though the old place may be gone, I still have those memories.

Oh man, this, what do you mean this wasn't interesting. It's very interesting, especially the part about your dad coming back and saying joking about it being a bigfoot, and you could tell he was unnerved. To me, that made the whole story perfect. It was just awesome. But I bet you do have memories, and I really appreciate you sending this story. Thanks a lot. The ghost stories I'm about to tell come from the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I

moved to Morehead in August of nineteen ninety five. My little sister had been attending Moorhead State University for two semesters and had been pastoring our mom the entire time to pay for her an apartment. Mom finally told her that if I agreed to move there and go to college, she would get us an apartment. At that time, there were limited opportunities back in Pike County, and Mom wanted me to move away to perhaps have a better life.

Confident in the outcome, my sister had already located a place to live and had made arrangements to get it when the ladies who occupied it moved out. The apartment was located on Christy Creek Road and it faced the Blue Zoo Trailer Park. We had been living in the apartment for very long when I noticed that my sister was sleeping on the couch. She had the bigger bedroom because she had more stuff. She told me that she didn't feel comfortable being in the apartment alone. Well, I

thought that was odd. All the neighbors were her buddies and swarty sisters or guys from friendly fraternities. Trying to be a big brother, I bought a chain lock and put it on the door, hoping that extra thing would ease her mind. But even with the new lock, she started staying over at her boyfriend's house. I decided that her own ease had to be an excuse for sleeping over at his place, but it wasn't any of my business. The first time I experienced something odd was on a

Friday night. I was alone and my sister was away. The door was locked and the new chain was in place, and I had no sooner turned off my bedroom light to go to sleep when the front door slam. I don't mean it closed hard, I mean it was a grown man, two handed swing the door slam. I jumped up and ran to the confront. Whatever was going on. The front door was closed and the chain was in place.

I proceeded to clear the apartment, checking all the rooms, in closets in any corner someone might hide, but no one was there. I went back to my room, climbed into bed. I turned the lights off. Slam. It happened again, and I ran back out and everything was just like before. I checked everything again and went back to bed. I kept the lamp on, but I had no further strangeness that night. In the nineteen eighties, I had developed a weight problem that happened to coincide with my acquisition of

an Nintendo. In nineteen ninety two, I started lifting weights and riding a stationary bike like it was my religion. Now I managed to lose seventy pounds in the Moorhead apartment. If I wanted to ride my bike and watch TV, I would have to sit with my back to the hallway. I couldn't do it. I had to sit so my back wasn't exposed to the hall or else. It felt like somebody was staring a hole through my back. A few years later, my little sister had dropped out of school,

met another guy, and she had moved out. I was still at that apartment, living alone. I was coming home from the gym and I saw all of our neighbors had gathered at the apartment number twenty seven, two apartments over from mine, to watch the UK Wildcats play in the tournament. Someone invited me in as I was passing, and I sat down on the couch for a bit. While I was watching the game, the others were talking about the ghost. My ears perked up and I asked

what they were talking about. Someone told me to listen toward the steps. Well I did, and sure enough, it sounded like someone was walking up and down the stairs. Then they told me to look up to the steps to the second floor, but to use my peripheral vision. Sure enough, there was a dart shape moving back and forth between the rooms up there. If you look directly, you couldn't see it, but if you look peripherally, there it was. I was floored and couldn't believe it, but

it did explain so much. The upstairs of number twenty seven extends over to number twenty eight. The nursing students told me that on weekends, when the guys in number twenty seven were out of town, they could still hear people walking around upstairs, and sometimes the TV or the radio would come on in the empty apartment. When my little sister made her exodus, she left most of her

stuff in Moorhead. I had eventually decided that she wasn't coming to get her crap, so I moved all my stuff into the big bedroom and all her stuff into the little one. The big bedroom had to walk in closet that connected to the bathroom. It was really strange. I didn't like the room either. I had to sleep with both doors closed and locked. One night, I was in the room in the dark and both doors locked. When something sat on the bed right beside me. That

was not cool. I turned on the light and ended up sleeping with the lamp on. Oddly enough, I too ended up sleeping on the couch. Imagine that. In the year two thousand, I was working at a local movie theater. My buddy worked there too, and she was into the coult She and her husband came over several times and they hung out watching movies with me. Every time she was over, she was very withdrawn and would sit with her knees pulled up to her chin, and that wasn't

like her at all. One night, I was asleep on the couch and had a dream that a dark shape with no face was strangling me. I fought myself awake and made sure that my blanket or shirt hadn't been strangling me. But everything was as it should be. I told my buddy it worked the next day, and she said, your ghost just tried to kill you. What could I say? I knew it was real, and I actually believed her. In two thousand and one, I moved to a new

place with my girlfriend who's now my wife. I told my buddy that I was moving and why she was happy for me. I was kind of shocked. I told her that it was a great apartment and she said, yeah, but your bathroom is a pit of hell. She explained that something really dark was there and in the bathroom walking area. Again, how could I argue with that? I had experienced what I had experienced. I was working at the movie theater in two thousand. I never experienced anything there,

but my buddy did, so did my future wife. On Thursday nights, the new movie would be put together in previewed. If you were one of the cool kids, you got to watch the preview. My buddy said that sometimes there would be more people in the room watching the movie than there were supposed to be. She said that sometimes there would be an extra person down near the front, near the corner, watching the movie, and they were always

gone by the time the movie was over. Her mother told me a story about another theater that had been across from the police department. It was called the Trail Theater and it had been closed for a few years. She said that one night, while she was cleaning, she was all alone in the building and mopping the lobby, and that she heard a voice from the stairs to the balcony. It called her name and it said come here, she said. She laughed and wagged her finger at it,

saying I will not be doing that. She left her mop and buckets sitting there and never went there at night without her revolver. In the University theater, my wife said that one night she saw a ghost in action. There was a fellow working there, and all the ladies could not stand him. He was a know it all and he was very disrespectful. One busy night, my wife was working concessions. She was handling the register and the popcorn. The guy was working the door, and since it was

so busy, he was helping her filling drink orders. She said that she watched several large sodas fly off the drink machine and pour all over him. She thought it was awesome. She normally came home mad after having to work with him, but that night she was happy. In two thousand and four, I joined the local police department. I just completed my twenty first year on the forest,

and during that time I've had some experiences. The old police department building was formerly a United States Post office. Late at night, something would move about the place. The dispatchers could be in the building by themselves in here, filing cabinet drawers opening in the squad room. I first became aware of it one night when a dispatcher told me about the ghost and asked me to listen for it. It sounded like someone was walking down the hall jangling keys.

Then in the sergeant's office, it sounded like someone was using a whole punch. She and I started exchanging ghost stories, and it turns out she was one of the girls who had lived in my old apartment, number twenty nine, right before my sister and I moved in, and she'd had her share of freaky occurrences as well. One night, the police department. Ghost was being extra loud, so I yelled at it and I said, be quiet, George. Immediately after,

there was a crash in the sergeant's office. The dispatcher and I ran down the hall and we saw that a big fan had been pushed over. From then on, the ghost name was George, and people still refer to him by that name. In twenty nineteen, the downstairs flooded and everything was moved to the second floor. George didn't like that, and he began to act out. He had done things in the past. It had scared the dispatchers,

but he was apt to do it more often. You could see the papers fluttering when there was no breeze. And one night a deputy was bringing the dispatcher her lunch and he walked through a cold spot. He said he looked to his left and saw a dark shape in the kitchen, and when he investigated, there was no one there. And then in twenty twenty two we moved to our new building, and thankfully George did not move with us. On June sixteen, twenty twenty five, I had

my first bigfoot experience. I stepped out of my house carrying my cat and a pet carrier when she let out an unhappy yell from her crate. At the same time, one of the semi feral outside cats broke cover and darted down the street away from the woods. The Daniel Boue National Forest has just passed my house, and right after the cats made their commotion, the wood knocking began. I couldn't believe it. I've lived in this house for nearly eight years and I've never heard anything like this before.

Right after the first knocking started, a second set started up further into the woods. You know the scene in Jaws too, when the chief is banging on the electrical line with the boat oor. That's exactly what it sounded like. I was so mad at myself for not recording it. There's a dead tree right behind the house. That is all the bark stripped off, all except a couple of

feet at the top. There had been one in front of the house on a game trail, too, and the bark was stripped off up to about fifteen feet off the ground. I had always thought those trees were odd deer that high, I don't think so. On a few occasions I had been huffed at from the dark. I thought it was a buck I had sometimes seen on the property on at least two occasions. I was growled at one occasion, I was walking toward the house from my car when something growled at me, low and guttural.

It scared me. As I've said, I'm a police officer, I'm no sissy. I worked nearly eighteen years on the midnight shift. Can't be a sissy and be a successful police officer. Well, I thought you'd get a kick out of hearing these tales. Feel free to use them however you wish. Thanks for all you do. Well, Thank you, sir, for that was a long email. Thank you for spending so much time and remembering all those things in your life. Ghost stories and the Bigfoot story. I thought they were great.

Thank you much. I hope everything's going good for you in Kentucky. I appreciate the email. Thanks. Here's a story about something other than Bigfoot. Thank goodness. I love Bigfoot stories, but I like doing different stuff just to break up the routine. This is short little story about a thunderbird. In nineteen thirty two, my mother was almost a year old. It was a sunny spring day and my grandmother wanted to put her baby daughter out to get some sunshine.

She selected her favorite baby blanket and later on it on the grass near the kitchen window, where she could be washing the dishes. The house faced a mode feel that stretched out about five acres from the kitchen to the state Road twenty eight in Short Gap, West Virginia. Fifty feet up the hill from the main house was a smokehouse. My great grandfather, my mom's grandfather, was there chopping blocks of wood with a hatchet when he noticed

a large shadow fly across the sun. It was a huge bird with a cold black plumage, dropping from the sky and flying directly toward my mother, who was lying on her baby blanket. My great grandfather knew he could never run fast enough to grab up the baby, so he aimed his hatchet and he threw it at the bird, and he killed it. When my grandfather came home, they stretched the huge dead bird across the wall of the smokehouse. It was sixteen feet four inches from wingtip to wingtip.

Many neighbors stopped by to see the thunderbird, though nobody knew what it was. At the time, no one had seen anything quite like this. A picture of the bird was taken, but now ninety years later, it has been misplaced. I saw it when I was a boy. My mother is ninety one now, and it will always be a great family story. Oh my gosh, that is a great family story. Wish that picture had survived. If that picture

sure had survived and someone had scanned it. You you had scanned it and put it on the internet, it would be all over the internet. You may have could even made some change with that picture. Anyway, I thought this was a great story. I really appreciate the writer sending in. I love these different stories. We do get mostly Bigfoot stories because that's how I started the channel several years ago, and we just did Bigfoot for a couple of three years, and so everybody kind of thought

we were just doing Bigfoot. But I got a little burnout on Bigfoot. I still get burnt out on Bigfoot. But some of the stories, the stories are great. It's just a great change up to do something different. Like this thunderbird story. What a crazy story. Killed it with a hatchet? What that's awesome. It dude, was like Daniel Boone or something. Very good story. I really appreciate it. Thank you to the writer.