A listener writes “My experience occurred in August of 2006, near Huntington, Texas on a property belonging to a friend of mine that happens to jut up against and blend with Angelina National Forest, a Federal-managed preserve and park that mostly surrounds Sam Rayburn reservoir. And not just any part, but one of the Wilderness management regions of the forest at that.
A good portion of his land is heavily wooded and swampy in some parts, and navigating it can be tricky at times. Knowing him, he is very private and shies away from scrutiny, and I will divulge no further as to the exact location of the property to protect his privacy. From my understanding, he sold it a few years ago to a logging company, i think. My particular story though, I will make no efforts to withhold both the known facts and my personal opinion on it, both at the time it occurred and my perspective now. I will refer to him as “C” anytime I refer to him in my account.A little bit of brief background on myself, the relevance of which will become more apparent as I relay my story. To be frank, I am unsure of what to really make of it but let’s get to it.I am now 42 years old. I am a fairly accomplished woodsman, a hunter and a fisherman since childhood. My godparents, who sponsored my father when he came here after the Vietnam War, were from Mississippi, swamp folk, and I spent quite a bit of time on their extensively wooded property as a child and young teen until they passed away within a year of each other when I was about 14.
My godfather was a quarter Cherokee, an Army veteran from WW2 days, and a member of a unit of hand-picked soldiers that conducted clandestine operations behind enemy lines, a unit that would eventually evolve into what we refer nowadays as Special Forces, Army Rangers, mostly men from predominantly rural areas that were heavily mountainous and/or wooded swampland; essentially hunters. He was an accomplished tracker and experienced outdoorsman, thus as a child I was taught many of the ways of his people; being attuned with nature, identifying foot tracks and animal markings, general woods knowledge and survival skills. I continued practicing these skills as I grew into adulthood as much as time would allow. I have lived in east Texas since I was 7, Katy to be precise, just outside Houston up until after high school; I then lived in Cypress for a number of years and now live in Goodrich, a town of 258 souls about 10 minutes south of Livingston and Sam Houston National Forrst, and about an hour+ from the Angelina Forest Preserve. I have hunted in many different places both within Texas and the gulf region, and elsewhere; North Carolina, northern California, Arkansas, Mississippi, Georgia, few other places. Alaska, actually no, but one day soon!I had met “C” right after high school. He was the older uncle of a school friend of mine, and he had invited me to his property several times; I had been out there maybe 3-4 times before the incident.
I was actually quite familiar with his property, and had assisted him before in installing/removing a couple of deer stands, some hog pen traps, and even set up a game camera, one of several he kept near the outskirts of his property near the preserve. I had hunted deer on his private land several times, and culled hogs when their numbers swelled.This particular trip was a favor to him; C actually lived in Lufkin and asked me to make a trip out there and check on a deer stand and swap one of the game cameras; he had some acquaintances coming out there to hunt for deer the following week and wanted me to check on the deer stand’s condition. I had been out there in May earlier that year but did not stop by either deer stand; I am a stalker and a tracker by nature, not a camper but to each their own. A brief redirect concerning Sasquatches. As a child I had read books on the subject, among other cryptozoology materials, but this was before the internet was extensive and social media platforms existed, so this was mostly restricted to older books and articles from libraries; knowledge of Bigfoot behavior and encounters was not as widespread as it is now, and it wasn’t until recently again in life that I learned so much more about them, and your podcast was/is a big part of that, and I was astounded by what I heard others relayed in their encounters and some of it reminded me of my incident, which all these years I did not even consider Bigfoot in explaining what happened.
Oral stories and firsthand accounts I did not hear too much of as a child; once when I had asked my godfather about Bigfoot, he grimly informed me that there were spirits in nature, and the closer one got to nature, the more I would understand. He explained that respect and reverence for nature was our first duty on this planet, and as long as one was prepared and alert, the greatest threat out in the wild would generally be other humans, not nature, though nature was merciless to those unprepared. That mentality has shaped my life outlook in general and my particular opinions on Bigfoot, but more on that later. Back to the incident. It was really going to be a short trip, maybe 2.5 miles to the back of the property, so maybe 6-7 miles total for the day. I arrived on a Monday evening and set up at C’s cabin, planning on heading out very early in the morning. Goal was to check/replace if needed the game camera, circle north and check the deer stand, and head back to the cabin by late evening, then back out early in the morning and check the other stand (budgeting time for any minor repairs if needed) and then hunt the rest of the day into the evening. Normally I carry one of two rifles while hunting; a Marlin 336 chambered in 35 Remington, my swamp gun, shorter range, heavy hitter, for dense brush and will go through trees at short range if needed, or my Marlin MR-7 in 30-06, my prized bolt action with scope, for longer range work. On my side I typically carry a 1911 in 10mm, or my old Ruger Security-Six in .357 Magnum.
I had brought my lever gun and Ruger to the property, but on first day since I was carrying a spare game camera, a small tool kit, and some extra water (hot Summer day), I considered it a mostly hiking day and left the lever gun at the cabin; instead I packed my AR-7 survival rifle, a breakdown 22LR that conveniently fits in my pack. I usually never enter the deep woods without a high caliber long gun, and this would prove to be an error on my part. I made it out to the edge of the property and oddly enough, the tree which I remembered attaching the camera to the prior year was….broken and gone, camera and all. I double checked my GPS coordinates and I was in the right spot. The surrounding area for about 50 yards seemed somewhat in disarray, quite a few broken trees, some quite large and more than normal. Enough for me to tell that….something had happened in this part of the woods. What exactly, I wasn’t sure.
At first I wondered if there was logging activity there but that didnt make sense, and there was no equipment laying around. I scouted around a bit, looking for clues and didn’t really see much; then again, I wasn’t sure what I was really looking for. I was really just seeing if I could spot the camera, but no luck. I do recall seeing some large branches stacked together in one spot nearby and remarking to myself that it was oddly coincidental they fell into a “natural” tee pee position(!). I had seen it before in other locales and ive seen it since, but I thought nothing of it at the time and I remember chuckling about it to myself as I selected a new tree and attached the new camera to it. After I was done I rested for a bit, oriented myself with my GPS, loaded up another set of coordinates for one of the deer stands and headed north. Not even a quarter mile from where I had been, I ran into a heavy thicket. At first I was going to navigate around it, I noticed some more disruption in the area which was unusual because it was noticeably so; on my way in from the cabin, I saw little out of the ordinary and figured if a storm had come through in recent times, the effects would be more consistent but again, I thought nothing of it at the time. As I made my way through the brush, out of nowhere I caught a smell on the wind; it was brief, but highly pungent.
I had never smelled it in the woods before, and it’s sudden intensity was akin almost to heavy smoke. It reminded me of rotting flesh, decay, like a butcher shop’s old meat smell but 10x more intense and mixed with rotten eggs and skunk. It stopped me in my tracks and I looked around my immediate area to see if I could spot the source, but I saw nothing unusual. This is where….my encounter happened. I will pause a moment here and reaffirm again that I am no stranger to the danger of the wilderness and was accustomed to always being mentally prepared and reflex-ready. But now, that stench hit me, then was gone, and suddenly an extreme feeling of dread overcame me. I recognized it immediately; I was being watched with intent. I’d been stalked by a mountain lion before and knew the feeling, but this was different somehow.
It wasn’t something watching me; it was SOMEONE. I snapped out of my temporary freeze and moved slowly to my right, in a half crouch creep. I heard it to my left, about 10 o’clock, maybe 40 yards out; a slight rustle of leaves and brush, quiet but noticeable to me. I stopped and glanced and saw some branches in a thicket sway slightly; something large had just passed through it to the other side, just out of sight. Now my instinct kicked in; whatever it was, was large but quiet, and fast. If it had been a deer or a hog, it would not move as quietly through the thicket if it were trying to create distance from me; whatever it was had stopped moving when I did. Intelligence. A person, i thought. I was a tad nervous now, using my peripheral I spotted a small copse of trees, like a small “wall” of trees and brush grouped tightly. No tree nearby that I could climb any reasonable height. I quickly glided over to the group of trees, scanned the area behind it, put my back to it, knelt down, unclasped my Ruger, and quietly pulled out the 22 and began putting it together. I was thinking a poacher, and here I was with only my sidearm and a 22 rifle, both short range weapons and the rifle of limited stopping power. If this was a poacher, likely he had a larger rifle or a crossbow, so I was likely outgunned or he had the stealth advantage. He could kill me and leave me here, and I wouldn’t be found for at least a couple of days. As I was reaching into my bag for the loaded magazines for the rifle, I smelled it again; the rotting stench. I heard something behind me, a light rustle of leaves, a twig snapping, basically behind the tree wall I had my back to. I glanced over my shoulder between the tightly grouped trees and saw a flash; something dark, tall and bipedal, darting around another group of trees and fallen brush, maybe 20-25 yards to my 7 o’clock. Now real fear set in; this could not be the same person who was now roughly oriented at my current 1 o’clock position; no way he flanked me that fast and that quietly, at a distance that I could not see or hear him move. No human is that fast, so there are least two of them. Now 100% certain that I am outnumbered and likely outgunned.
My fear was rising every millisecond, and what the hell is with that smell? These guys are good, either they’re special forces types or there’s more than 2 of them. I recalled my godfather being able to move through heavy swamp relatively quietly and rapidly but these guys would’ve made him proud with how good they were. But it didn’t make sense. Poachers are rarely in groups over 2, and where did they come from anyway? There is no easy access point other than through the trails from the cabin. Did they follow me in this morning? Did they trek in from the national forest? C’s property jutted up against and blended with a highly remote part of one of the vast wilderness areas of the Forest. Why would anyone trek all the way out there just to cross over onto marked private property, just to poach? It just didn’t make sense. The smell dissipated somewhat now but was still present. I was crouched still, leaning low, listening, terrified and near tears. Damn, these guys must be military-trained; they are silent, either they have stopped moving or they are that good. At least one of them can see me and is watching me, I can feel his eyes. Then I hear it; two knocks from behind me, short raps, difficult to gauge distance but it came from my 6 o’clock. I’m thinking he tapped a tree with his rifle or another object. I raise my rifle to my shoulder and as I do, two identical LOUD knocks from my 10/11 o’clock. Those I can tell are close, less than 30 yards. They’re closing in and I’m basically the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life, im shaking and unsure how well i can aim. I quickly glance behind me, through the cracks in the trees; nothing. I make a tactical choice then; I call out in my command voice (with as much courage as I can muster), “This is private property, if you came in from the preserve, you need to head back that way. I have friends back at the cabin waiting for me, and they’ll be coming to look for me soon and they’re armed. Just walk away, and I’ll do the same.” As I finish that sentence, I can tell my voice is faltering with fright; not good. If they rush me now, they’ll get me. I may get a single shot off but best case scenario, one of them will punch my ticket even if I get a lucky head shot kill on one of them.
I may very well die out here today. I’m really shaking now, and crazily enough, I’m thinking of my younger brother and wondering who will take care of him. I snap out of it as the rotting smell returns full force and almost chokes me. I still see no movement in my immediate 180° field of vision, and hear nothing, no verbal response to my call out. I’m near shaking uncontrollably, I lower the rifle and place it on the ground beside me and draw the Ruger. They’re in pistol range now and the firepower is my only advantage. I still feel like I’m being watched, but where is he? Where is his partner? On a whim, I look up and scan the tree line in my field of vision. No good trees to climb, zero cover. No one in the trees. I’m confused. The smell and fear is almost overwhelming me. I’m about to lose it. I don’t know how long passed, it could have been a few seconds or a few minutes but then I hear a single knock off to my 3 o’clock, and it’s very faint, a fair distance away but still within rifle range. I’m waiting for the response; they’re communicating with each other via knocking, very clever, they MUST be ex-military to display such discipline and coordination. I’m outmatched here, outnumbered and probably outgunned. Then I hear the response. Two knocks to my 9 o’clock, distant. They’re creating space, possibly leaving. The smell is dissipating and before I know it, it’s just about gone. I’m confused. What kind of musk are they wearing? Not any deer/game scent I’ve ever smelled, and no way that works with fooling any deer or other animal. They called my bluff and left, it seems.
I feel less anxious now, I transition from crouching and sit down on the ground, trying to control my breathing and slow my heart rate down. I’m still listening and think I hear branches snap in the distance but not sure, it’s a good distance away. I sit there for awhile just listening and watching, still scared but calmer now. After awhile I check my GPS and orient my direction to the deer stand. It’ll cause me to follow the direction one of the poachers went and I decided against it; instead I decided to head back the way I came, back to the camera I just installed, which ended up being behind me where poacher #2, and I’ll just retrace my way from there back west, along the southern border of the property, back towards the creek and then head back north to the main trail back to the cabin. After waiting a bit longer I cautiously get back up and start on my journey back. It went without incident, no smell, no feeling of being watched or stalked, but with me looking over my shoulder almost the entire way. It was dusk when I got back to the cabin and I think I smoked 2 packs of cigarettes over the following 3 hours before falling asleep.
I locked and barricaded the door before laying down, Ruger on the coffee table next to the couch I laid on and rifle in my hands like a body pillow. I had messaged C when I had gotten back but missed his response that night, the following morning I woke up to him calling, he was outside, had driven out there first thing at dawn, took off work for two days, came to check on me and see what he could do. The sheriff came by and I talked to him about what happened, he called the Forest Service office and let them know there was an incident with suspected poachers, they said they’d send someone over to talk to us and asked if they needed to send someone with us to go extract game camera data from any of the cameras. The park ranger they sent told me it wasn’t common for poachers in that region of the national park, and agreed with my thoughts that it was odd they trekked all that way through the wilderness area but anything was possible. I went home that day, and the following day, C and a couple of game wardens went and extracted data from the game cameras, including the new one I had installed the prior day, and oddly enough, the camera at the northeastern corner of the property outskirt was also missing. It would take another 2 weeks before the data was analyzed and C was notified of the results but nothing suspicious was seen on any photos, just normal wildlife activity. No poaching activity noted. I figured they had used IR detection and avoided them. This was the story I was given.
Like I mentioned before, hearing some of the accounts on your podcast from other folks, learning about the tree knocking, the tree placements, the rotting smell, a lot of doubts now that those were human poachers I encountered out there. Some deeper research and I discovered that there were a handful of reported Bigfoot sightings in Angelina National Forest over the years, and I hadn’t understood why I felt such fear and anxiety, and at the time I didn’t even consider the possibility it may have been Sasquatches stalking me. To this day I try to recall what I saw when I looked between the trees and saw whatever it was that darted behind the brush but I cannot truly recreate it in my mind, but whatever it was, it was faster than any living creature I know of and it was bipedal, definitely not a creature on four legs. I really thought it was a person. In my memory, faulty as it may, I imagine it was someone in a dark ghillie suit, but they seemed to almost melt behind the brush and then into the thicket, quietly and almost seamlessly. It has been difficult for me to reconcile what happened may have been different than what I assumed it to be all these years, and for someone like me who over compartmentalized everything, that’s a tough pill to swallow.”
