Seeing Bigfoot Was Only the Beginning

a ditch. I drive a Hommer and it has great headlights, but what I saw shook me to the core. It was no less than four solid feet across at the shoulders, and the head was covered in long hair, not a cone, but it was round. As my headlights hit the figure dropped down to its belly in the ditch, like it was dropping for cover. The mass of this thing was unbelievable. I drove past, never thinking about stopping, and I couldn't

believe my eyes. And for the next hour driving home, I replated in my head, well, this weight on me because I was never a believer in the momo booger squatch, or whatever the kids call it these days. A week later, I went back to the spot where I had seen this thing, and when I pulled off the highway to look where it stood, I was shocked to see that based on where it had been standing in the ditch, which was at least four feet deep, this thing was

at least eight feet tall. Now, if you skip forward to the winter, the kids and I went for a nature hike outside of Clinton, Missouri. It was the first nice day that winter, and we walked a good three miles. That day, I took the camera for kid picks, and we got a little more than we anticipated. In the frozen ground. We found some deep, barefoot tracks crossing the trail, and for the life of me, I could barely make

a dentt in that ground with my own boots. The tracks were eighteen inches long with a stride of around six feet. My daughter is a complete doubter and made fun of my excitement. But as we moved on down the trail, we came across a second set of prints. They were not the same size, but they must have been heavier because they were stamped a lot deeper into the frozen ground. As I was taking pictures, my daughter

got scared and demanded that we go home. Not long after that hike, I asked the newspaper editor if he would put my pictures in the paper, and to my amazement, he said it wasn't the first time he had seen tracks like this, but he could not print the pictures because it would draw the wrong kind of attention to our area. I was caught up by the fact that this type of thing is already known, but nothing has been said or done to bring the truth out, and

that just kills me. I work out in the country on a large piece of property for some good people. I worked pretty much by myself, and I've had some unsettling things happened to me out there. Last summer. As I was clearing trees and gardening, I would occasionally get a gut feeling that someone was watching me. This time went by. The feeling intensified. One day I was talking to one of the owners. It was around noon and we were standing by the lake when we heard owls hooting,

one right after another. It wasn't like anything I had ever heard before, and the intensity of it was alarming, one from one side of the lake and the other from the other side, and I commented that it was the strangest sounding owl I had ever heard, but the owners quickly changed the subject. Days later, I was out again clearing brush, and it was the dog days of summer, and at the end of the day, and I told myself I was going to fish in the backbond and

then go for AHM afterward. The end of the day came and I jumped in a john boat and rowed out, And as I fished, I had another gut feeling, this time a little different than usual. It was almost a nauseating hunch that I was in for it, like I was a kid and you knew your parents were just about to notice that you did something wrong, and you're just waiting for the whooping. I'm talking toolshit whooping, if

you know what I mean. I threw my bait out and caught a catfish and reeled it in, and then I heard something in the woods by the lake crashing and breaking branches. It scared me to all ends, but I had it in my head that I worked this damn land and I earned my R and R time. My thought was that when I was done on the boat, i'd go confront whoever was making their presence known. Unfortunately, we have a lot of poachers that come on the land, and it's nothing to have to run off a crackhead

with shotguns on a weekly basis. When I threw the fil back in the water, the woods sounded like a tornado was crashing through. It was more intense than any poacher could have been, and that gut feeling I had only intensified. Of course, I didn't listen to it. I threw my bait out again, and the same thing happened, even louder than before, until finally a feeling of pure terror hit me. I finally listened to my gut and rowed back to the shore and got out of there.

The next day, I knew I had work to do on the dock of that same pond. I had shaken a man's hand and it would be done. And that kind of thing means something in these parts. I loaded up my tools and went out early the next day. I replaced the boards on the dock, keeping one eye behind me the whole time. I hammered in the two by sixes and I hit the nails with five solid hits. Directly after the hits, I heard five knocks way off in the distance. I wrote it off as an echo,

because trees do that sometimes. But the next time I hammered five solid times, the five knocks that answered back were a lot closer. It sounded like something thick and dense pounding on the hardwood, and after hearing it, I stood up and listened to the sound of something running through the timber. The distance they covered was draw dropping. It just didn't make sense. They crossed that hilly brush

covered woods like a cheetah on an open plane. And the time it took me to start walking the twenty feet off the dock, I heard the sound of someone with two feet jump and then along silence. Only when I made it off the dock did I hear the thud of the landing, and it hit the dead foliage with its feet and slid to a stop not thirty feet from me on the hill above. But what came

next scared the hell out of me. I couldn't see past the trees in the brush, but I was frozen in fear because I knew it was right above me, and I could hear it breathing in and out in long, deep breaths, like it was sniffing me or smelling me. Longer than any human can hold air, and then the EXHL came. It was long and gurgled. I've never been so scared in my life, and it shook me to

my core. I left my tools and backed away a few steps to get into my ride, and as I backed up, I saw the outline of what looked like the thing I saw the year before in the ditch. I got in my vehicle and drove off like a bat out of hell, heading back into town. I called the owner and told him exactly what happened, and the most alarming part of the entire ordeal was his response, Well, don't go back in there again unarmed, he told me.

I told him that I had a twenty two long rifle with me, but he just snickered and told me it wasn't big enough. He must have sensed the fear in my tone, because he tried to calm me by playing the experience off as being another poacher. After that, I sort of got used to the idea that there were strange creatures in the land, and I have gotten

used to the feeling of them watching me. The area where I work is surrounded by caves, and after I told him what happened, the owner told me about one cave in particular, that I should absolutely stay completely away from Hey after what I saw, you don't have to tell me twice. When I got home, my wife told me that I was white as a ghost. I tried to tell her what had happened, and she encouraged me

to share my experience. I sent my story to a man who works for the government, and a day later I happened to check my email and found out the message hadn't been sent at all. It was still in my drafts, not sent yet, like I hadn't written the email in the first place. So I wrote the email and I sent it a second time, and the same thing happened. Well, I was starting to think somebody didn't want me talking about my experience. Well here I am

attempting this one last time. If my story gets to you, I will be amazed.