I'm not sure what I believe about cryptids, but some of my friends and I have had some weird experiences over the years that I can't explain. There definitely seems to be something more than what officially is out there. When I was in the fourth or fifth grade, my dad and I went backpacking on the North Country Trail near Muskegon, Michigan. As we crossed one of the roads, we saw something big and hairy walking on two legs down the road.
We weren't able to tell for sure what it was, but have jokes since then that it was bigfoot. After I started listening to this podcast last summer, I called him to see if he remembered the encounter, and he said he still wasn't sure what it was, but the only thing he could think of that it could have been was a person walking down the street and a fur coat on a hot summer afternoon. Since that time, I had become a pilot, and a few months ago I was on a night flight
home after dropping some passengers off on the other side of the country. We were flying at sixteen thousand feet, nearing the Mississippi Louisiana border, roughly thirty miles northwest of Baton Rouge, when we started hearing other pilots asking does anyone else see this? What is that? The first reports were that it was west of Little Rock, Arkansas, and sure enough, we saw a light right where they said it was, and it was hauling, but to the
south. It was low enough and intense enough that it was lighting up a large section of the cloud layer a couple of thousand feet above us, so it was probably in the low flight levels twenty thousand feet, if I had to guess. A bunch of us started talking and trying to figure out what this thing was. One guy said he saw it explode, but a bunch of us saw it continue to fly, looking the same as it did when we first spotted it. By the time we lost sight of it, it
had only been about five or ten minutes. It was moving way faster than any aircraft I had ever seen, and it was visible from over one hundred miles away. Normal airplanes are very difficult or even impossible, to see from more than a few miles away, and the lights typically are only broad enough to be visible from maybe two miles away. Based on the position reports of the pilots I talked to, and what we saw it was probably moving in
excess of one thousand miles per hour. One pilot was able to contact flight service. That's basically our way to get any information to or from the ground that we need other than clearances from ATC. They told him there was a Starlink rocket launch out of Cape Canaveral that night. But this light was first
seen over the middle of Arkansas and disappeared in southern Louisiana. The rocket launch or recovery theory doesn't really make sense because it was traveling north to south at relatively a low level in what everyone agreed was a straight and level flight. It was in the wrong place and traveling in the wrong direction to be a rocket. A rockets fly west to east so that they can use the Earth's rotation to help them accelerate. It's part of why NASA put its launch site
in Florida. The only thing they'll ever be over if something goes wrong is open ocean. This thing was also in level flight. It wasn't climbing or descending like a rocket. Wood. We thought it might be some sort of military aircraft, but this thing was lit up way too bright to be some sort of stealth aircraft or whatever. This thing was flying well below where even the airlines fly, and those jets fly at thirty to forty thousand feet.
Whatever it was could fly almost twice as fast as an airliner without the help of a tailwind. Additionally, my wife and one of my roommates each had an encounter with a dog man in the forests of North Michigan. My wife had been hanging out with her roommate in part of the woods where we would go shoot guns and have bonfires when she saw it, and my roommate saw one at the place he lived before he moved into our apartment. But I
unfortunately don't remember any more details of either of those stories. And then he signs off and says, thanks for an interesting show. Well, you know, I'm not the one that makes it interesting. You guys make it interesting. Good grief. These stories are so good, and I feel very fortunate that people are willing to take the time to write these down and send them to us, because first, the channel's meant for entertainment, but second they
are very interesting and they make you think. And that's uh, I don't I don't know how to say it, but it like it's almost like fiction, although I don't think it's fiction, and that fiction takes you kind of to another world, a created world by an author, and it kind of does that. So that's what I really appreciate about these stories. So you said thanks for an interesting show. I say thanks for an interesting email in a well written email. At that, I appreciate the writer. Let's go
to another one. My name is Bubba, and I have a brief story that will knock your weaves straight. He got a story gonna knock your weaves great. In fact, this was the scariest moment in my life as well as my best friends. That's exactly the kind of story we love on this pot. I appreciate you, Bubba. Let's get into your story. Let
me first fill you in a little bit about our background and upbringing. I'm the offspring of two Appalachian Americans, so you can call me a briar hopper, ridge rat, hill, billy, redneck, or an Appalachian mountain ape whatever. I have heard them all. My friends, though, were all city boys who would consider the ball diamond as the grade outdoors, and we grew up quite different over our childhood years. We all grew up in the
southwestern part of Ohio. But when we were out in the street playing woffle ball or hide and seek, I was working making extra money, or back down in the hills of Kentucky working on my grandparents' farm. As we got older and I got a job, my time with my friends increased and I introduced them to some redneck sports like fishing. It is entertaining to watch a city boy catch his fir decent fish. In nineteen eighty two, we all
graduated and my friends joined the military. That was except for me, and all had left except for my best friend Dave, and he was due to report in about two weeks from when this life changing event occurred. The Thursday afternoon before this, we were on our way home from going to see a movie and we looked over and we saw some nice ponds on a golf course, and the topic of fishing those ponds shot out of both of our mouths.
At the same time, I wheeled my truck around and found the entrance to the member's only golf course, and I drove up to the clubhouse to ask for permission to fish their ponds. Well, they were not very polite in telling us to get our low life's poor asses off their property. It was at that moment that I decided I would fish those ponds, even if
Dale had to go to jail and missus report date. Over the next two days, I gathered as much information such as maps and the auditor's office on that golf course as I could, and I put a plan together to hit those pones on Saturday night around midnight. I picked Dave up at eleven PM and we were both in all black with black shoes, pants, hoodies, and even painted our faces with some camo paint that I used for bowhunting. We each had one ride and a pack of seven inch black worms and four
hooks, and we headed for the Richy neighborhood. We parked the trucks about four blocks away from the course on a street that had more cars on it than the others around the vicinity, and we hiked into the golf course, sneaking between the houses onto the green and we headed straight to the first pond.
The moon was full, the fishing was better than we thought it would be, catching several bass over three pounds in the first two hours, and once the first pond slowed down, we trotted over to the next one just a couple of holes away. There was a security guard that came driving through once with his sealed beam spotlight, but we saw him well before he could see us, so we hunkered down in some cattails and got small and he
headed back to the clubhouse for his nap. At three am, we hit one more pond next to the seven Green and then we would head home for a couple of hours of sleep before church. We had been on that pond for about twenty minutes and had caught a bunch of fish when we heard one roll in the cattails on the other side of the pond. That sounded massive. Now this was the largest pond on the course and there was no way we could cast to the other side, so Dave said he was going over
there to catch that wall hanger and then we could head home. But I was happy staying where I was just catching two and three pounders. Dave had not so much as had time to get to the other side, and I heard some that sounded like a girl scream bloody murder and continued screaming while running away from the pond. It sounded like she was screaming something about a monster and it's after me. I'm telling you, the pitch of the scream was
glass shattering loud. I ran over to where Dave was, but he was not there, and I noticed his rod was lying half in the water and half on the bank. So I picked it up and I started to reel in the line when there was a resistance on the other end. I set the hook, thinking it was a big fish, and also thinking about bragging
Todave about that big wall hanger that I had caught on his rod. And I heard some sort of grunt and I looked up to where the line was going, and there, within the moonlight behind it stood a monster, and it looked to be ten feet tall. It was all black, with huge black hands and only one pointed ear. I could not move and I could not speak. I was going to be eaten by this monster. I knew it. I don't know what kept me from souling my pants, but I
was able to keep my butt puckered and in control. And then it spoke, hey, I think I scared your friend off. And I realized that this was a guy diving for golf balls, and in his hands were five gallon buckets with holes to drain the water. I looked up and there were lights starting to turn on all about the golf course from Dave's screaming as he
ran down the fairway. The diver and myself decided it was a great time to get out of there, and I snuck off the course and in between two houses that did not have their lights on, and I got back to my truck after washing off my face and taking off that black hoodie. I drove by the entrance to the clubhouse and there were at least half a dozen police cars with their lights lighting up the night sky, and all the residents standing out on the street are in their driveways. I even saw a canine
unit with a dog. So I pushed the pedal down and started to search for my best friend. I had a good idea which way he would run, and sure thing, about three miles away, he was still running as hard as he could run, and he looked like he was about to pass out. Well. I pulled over and I rolled down the window and I asked if he would like a ride or was he planning on running all the
way home. Dave was still babbling about some monster that came out of the pond and tried to grab him, and I explained to him quickly that it was another trespasser collecting golf balls and that he had snagged him with his hook. I looked at him a little bit harder as the cab light came on when he opened the door, and I noticed that he had wet himself, and by the smell of it, he must have filled his drawers as well. And I pushed him back out the door, telling him that he was
riding in the back. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the confessionals the next week. I bet it was a ball buster. He and I are still friends, but I have not been fishing with him in years, so I think I'm going to give him a call next week to see if he'd like to do some day fishing this time. Oh man, what a great story, What a perfect story for this channel. We always do these real serious stories, you know, for the most
part serious. Sometimes they're serious, and I kind of try to make them. I try to living them up a little bit the way I read them. But this was a great story. I don't know what I would have thought if I looked up throwing a bait out trying to catch bass and this figure rises up out of the water. I think I got a scream like a girl too, and tried to run home. Anyway, Bubba, this was a great story, and I really appreciate you writing it and sending it
to us. You're a good guy and I appreciate you. Okay, I think this story in the next story after this are a series of I think they're called anecdotal incidents where people hear, see or smell something, they experience something, and they're pretty sure it's something out of the ordinary, whether it be bigfoot of go some kind of spirit UFOs. So these aren't action packed, but they're extremely interesting, so I thought i'd give you heads up on
what you're about to hear. And they're both kind of short, so let's get into them. My name is Mike, and my four incidents took place from the late nineteen sixties to the mid nineteen seventies. We lived in a small town in upstate New York in the Hudson Valley area, not too far from Albany. The first strange incident took place sometime in the late sixties, but I couldn't tell you the exact year. We were living in a house that we had rented, and there was a large j open field right across
the road that alternated between corn and alfalfa from year to year. Again, I don't remember, but I must have been somewhere between six and twelve years old at this time. On a summer night, my dad came in from outside and he told the family myself, my younger sister and brother, and my mom that we needed to come out and see something. We went out into the front yard and proceeded to watch two objects fly slowly and silently over
the field across the road. We couldn't see definite shapes, but there were green and red and blue lights making circular patterns around both objects. We watched for a couple of minutes as these silent things crews leisurely across our field of view and out of sight. I have no idea what they were. The second incident would have been roughly about the same time, because we were still living in the same rented house. Now. I didn't like school, treasured
my time away from school during the school year. I really liked the evenings and when my time was my own. This included when I went to sleep. Because I knew I had several hours of uninterrupted peace during the night. One night, I had just gone to bed and I was lying propped up on my elbows, just looking around the darkened upstairs bedroom that I shared with my brother. The light and the hall was on as a nightlight for us. I blinked my eyes and it was suddenly morning. No transition, no
falling asleep, no nothing, it was just morning. I was even still in the same propped up position, and I yelled hey, as I instantly felt my night of sleep had been stolen from me. I have no idea what this occurrence was about, even all these years later, but it sort of seems like a missing time incident, and I have no memory of anything
else strange happening at that time. The third incident came several years later, after we had moved into the house that we built in the early nineteen seventies. A friend of my father's had sold him five acres of cow pasture as a place to build, and we spent all of our free time for about eighteen months getting the house built. One night, we were working on the inside of the house doing some framing. There was no exterior cladding yet,
and the structure was open. We had a small gas generator to provide electricity for our work lights, and it suddenly died well. We thought it had run out of fuel, and my dad used his flashlight to check the tank and there were still gas in there. The thing had just quit. We couldn't get it started again, and as we fussed over it, I heard something large moving through the brush that lined the fence separating our light from the
cow pasture next to it. I felt a creepy sort of there's something there feeling, and I told my dad, but when he shined his light around there, there was nothing to be seen. With our generator dead, my dad decided to call it for the night, and we went home. The next day, the generator was working perfectly again, even though Dad had not
done anything to it other than try to start it again. Now I have no idea what happened to that other night, other than a reliable piece of gear just decided to quit and sounds of a large, unseen something moving nearby in the resulting silence. What you should know is that the field next to us held of beef cows. They were large, generally calm and placid animals. It's kind of hard not to see them, even with just the glow
of a flashlight at night. But there was nothing there that could have made the sounds of movement that I heard, that unmistakable sound of something big pushing through the brush. The fourth and final ensign was a couple of years later. Down the hill from us, I had a friend named Alan. His family lived on an old farm property that had not been formed in many years, and most of the fields had returned to woods and brush. There was
only one open field left that was used to grow hay. There was still a large barn far from the main house, and Alan's father stored parts for pipe organs and it as his hobby was restoring pipe organs. What had been a milking parlor when the place had been a working farm was used to store hay when the loft was at its capacity. Well. I was visiting Allan on a hot summer day, one of those days when there's not a breath
of wind and you try really hard to stay out of the sun. The old barn, with its pipe organ bits and other old clutter, was at tempting place to explore, especially in the heat, because it was shaded and cool in there. It was mostly surrounded by trees and bushes, because, like I said, the place was not actively farmed and had become overgrown. Alan and I were in the barn, messing around as young teenagers do, looking at the stuff in the barn and talking about Alan's dad's strange hobby,
and behind us, the main door was open. It was that kind of door that ran on a track at the top, and it slid sideways rather than being on hinges that let it swing open and closed. It was a sizeable door made of solid boards, and it probably weighed a couple hundred pounds. Alan and I were facing away from it when something lifted this heavy door away from the side of the barn and then let it slam back against the wall with a huge boom. I scared the crap out of us, and
we went running. There was not a puff of wind that day, certainly nothing that could have moved that heavy door. The day was hot and still, and there was no one else on the property except Alan's mom, and she was in the house, and neither of us saw anything. We were too busy running away. Alan later told me that his two older brothers had once tried spending the night in the barn a few years before just has something to do, but it had come back to the house in the middle of
the night. Scared out of their minds. They wouldn't say anything other than that they were done with the barn. Various other strange things had happened while they lived there, and they all thought there was some presence on the property that they had taken to calling the blob. None of them ever saw anything, but tools and other items would go missing. There would be odd sounds of both during the day and the night, and a general feeling of something
is there. I lost track of Alan when I left for the Navy a few years after the incident, and I have not reconnected with him. I'd love to know if he remembers this event the same way I do. Those are my tales of the unexplained. I hope you find them amusing. Well, Mike, I do find them amusing. Some of these again that I think they're called anecdotal. There's there's sounds, sites, and smells and events
that you experience and you try to attribute it to something. But sometimes as time goes on, you know, we just kind of have to say, well, there's no logical explanation for example, these four events that happened in Mike's life, and you almost have to go to some kind of supernatural, mythical event. And that's kind of cool, really, because then you become part of something that's kind of mysterious, and I think that's fun. Anyway, Mike, this was a great little set of stories and incidents, and
I really appreciate I really appreciate you sending it brother. Thank you. All Right, here's another story of anecdotal type things that I find fascinating. I hope you do too. The writer says, I am a sixty two year old truck driver from Central Florida, and your podcast helped the long hours go by quickly. Oh that's cool. Thanks for saying that. What I do these I kind of always think of people driving, namely truck drivers, because I know you guys are I know it gets boring. You have to have
something to occupy your mind while you're while you're running with that. I don't know, do y'all have cruise controlling those big rigs, but while y'all are running down the highway. I would have to have something to listen to while I'm doing all that driving. Anyway, back to the story. I was born and raised in central Florida, and I've been roaming the Orange groves and woods with a pellic gun since I was ten. I used to be an avid deer hunter, but I don't get to hunt much anymore. I like
to tell you about three encounters I've had. Two of them were in Florida and one in North Georgia. The first happened in nineteen eighty one, when I was nineteen years old. A buddy and I were riding around in the Richland Wildlife Management Area one evening with a cooler full of beer, hoping to see a deer, or a hog or a turkey. It wasn't hunting season, so we were just riding around hoping to see something. We were way back in the woods as far as we could get in my old two wheel
drive forward truck. We stopped and we were sitting on the tailgate having a beer when we heard a long, drawn out howl from the back of a cypress swamp. We looked at each other and my buddy's eyes were as big as dinner plates. What the hell was that? He asked? Why? I don't know, I said, but we decided to head back closer to the main road. Years later, I heard the Ohio howl, and I figured we had heard a skunk ape because it sounded a lot like the Ohio
howl. My next encounter was not long after the two thousand and forward sighting, which was two miles from the first encounter. I was coming home from work around nine PM. I was at a stop sign about to turn the left, and in front of me was a cow pasture where sometimes I would see a few deer. I made the turn and I had my brides hoping to see some deer, but what I saw was not a deer. I only got to look at the shoulder in the arm because as soon as the
lights hit it, it took off. I know it was on two legs, and it was grayish in color, and this thing was fast. I went back in the daylight and I saw a ditch running parallel with the fence going back into the woods, and I guess it hit the ditch and got the heck out of there. My last encounter took place between Christmas and New Year's in twenty twelve. I was visiting my mother, who lives in the mountains of North Georgia. I was standing outside that morning, hoping maybe to
see deer again. My mom's place has deer all around it, and there was a neighbor building something and was making all kinds of sawing and hammering, so much foreseeing deer, I thought. From two hundred yards away in the woods, I heard a loud whoop, and about a minute later I heard something like a baseball bat hitting a tree, and it was loud. The next part I'm about to tell you take with a grain of salt because my brother is a burned out ex druggy with brain damage from all the drugs he's
done. Plus he's a pathological liar. Okay, okay, but he claims to have heard something talking and gibberish. Back up the mountain. One night, there are no roads behind Mom's house up the mountain, only woods. One night, my mother's German shepherds started growling and barking at the front door. My mom and brother stepped out with a flashlight, and Mom says she saw three sets of yellowish green eyes looking back at them. Two were tall
and one was set a bit shorter. Now, everything off I told you is true to the best of my ability and the way I remember it, You were the only person I've told this to. Thank you for letting me share this with you. Well, now you've shared it with maybe twenty or thirty thousand people who hear this story, So now you've shared it kind of sword or with the world. Not the whole world, because there's what eight
billion people, but twenty thousand, that's a pretty good number. And I appreciate the story, and I appreciate these anecdotal You know what I like about them is their innocent. These people who write these stories to me are not trying to prove to the world that they've seen a bigfoot or they've tangled with a demon, or they've been flown out into outer space in a spaceship.
They're just saying, I've had strange things happen in my life that I have never been able to explain that didn't really have a huge effect on me. But I've thought about them all these years, and this these are my conclusions. This is what I think it could be, is normally how they go. And I love these because you know, even though I haven't myself, I haven't experienced a bigfoot or any kind of cryptid or anything like that.
There have been some strange things that I've seen and experienced, and I kind of like to think of I like to let my imagination go and kind of wonder, well, was that an alien event or was that a lost time event? Or was that noise I was hearing a bigfoot? I like these stories because they're not trying to prove anything. They're just telling you what they heard or saw or smelled or experienced, and they just want to share it
with you. And I appreciate the people who write them. So if you've had some, you know, just kind of benign, little non exciting things happen that you think are interesting, send them to me because I love them. They don't have to be you know, full on action, kill the Bigfoot, shoot down the spaceship kind of story. They can just be just
kind of a boring story. But to me, they're very interesting and if nobody else likes it, at least I do, and I'll put them on the podcast I show will Okay, that'll bring us to the end of this podcast. I really appreciate you listening. Remember I'm uploading old, old stories
from five years ago onto the podcast app. I know most people have already left the video by now, but there's some people still listening, and some of you guys who do listen to podcasts, I want to recommend to you that you use the Spreaker app s p R e A K E R Spreaker. Just look it up in your play store or Apple Store and download it. I've started listening to podcasts on that app, and it is a great platform. It's not like Spotify, it's not like Apple podcast or some of
the others. Speaker just puts the podcasts on there that they host. In other words, that's where I host my podcast, that's where it's blasted out to all the podcast apps. But the Spreaker app just keeps their podcast in one app. It's free, it doesn't cost you anything. You just download the app, give them your email address, create a password, doesn't cost you a thing. They don't keep up with anybody's data or anything like that.
And if you'll just scroll through the podcasts on the home screen, you can follow podcasts. You can put them in your library, so that when you want to go back and listen to something somebody's doing, you can go to my library and all the podcasts you followed are up there, including mine.
I hope you follow mine and you can listen to And if you listen to my podcast or anybody's podcasts through that app, you know, we get paid some of the ad revenue through Spreaker, but we get a like a ten percent boost or something like that if you listen to it through their app. So that's not a good reason to download the app. I'm just I'm just telling you that's kind of how it works. But if you're in the
if you're interested in a cool podcast app, download that one. You're not going to get Joe Rogan and all the political I mean, there are political podcasts on Spreaker, but you're not going to get everything you would get on Apple or Spotify. But there are just great podcasts. And the way that app is built and arranged is it's a really good player. It connects with
your car, it does all that good stuff. Anyway, all that to say, I wanted to let you know I'm uploading archived, remastered stories from years back, just a couple out of time. And if you look at my list in the podcast, they're called are The word archive is in the title archive one, two, three, four five. I think right now I'm up to thirty or I've got fifty uploaded, but they're scheduled to drop
one a day. So it's a podcast every day from Dixie Crypti in the what If It's True Podcast And they usually go live about five AM and you can download them and listen to them during the day. And there's a lot of new people who are following my YouTube channel who might want to find an easy way to go back and listen to some of the really good stories that I've redone there's no music. I don't talk in them like I'm talking now running my mouth. But anyway, I think I've run out of things to
say, so aw quit here go download the Sprinker app. I think you'll like it. Thank you for listening this long, and we'll see you guys on the next podcast. Love you all.