Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “Hi Wes, my name is Jon and I’ve been listening to your podcast for a few years now. I’m from Alabama and I’ve decided to reach out to you with my strange encounter.

The encounter happened in 2005, at which time I was seven years old.

My dad decided he wanted to go visit one of his buddies that he raccoon hunted with regularly and I decided to tag along. I’ll call this friend Frank. So we went to this guy’s property which was deep in the boondocks, it had to be at least 40 or 50 miles away from the nearest city because I remember it took a long time to get to his place. When we finally got there, we just sat around and shot the bull for a while, passing time until night fell.

We finally headed towards the place Frank called a hotspot for raccoons at around 11pm. We went deep into the woods behind his house in his pickup truck via a dirt trail. After about ten minutes of riding, we finally parked and got the dogs out and all the gear ready for the hunt. Earlier in the day Frank told me about how his most prized dog wasn’t afraid of anything and wouldn’t stop until he had treed a raccoon. This will come into play a little later.

So we walked through a dense part of the woods for a few minutes and came into a clearing with a pretty steep hill in front of us. Frank told us to follow his lead and started walking to the left, following the treeline, leading us to the opposite end of the clearing where this “hotspot” was. This is when I had my first sighting.

While we were walking the treeline, I was walking to the right of my dad. I saw something moving in my right peripheral and looked up on the hill and saw the head and some of the chest of something walking upright, paralleling us. It must have been walking right over the edge of the hilltop because I couldn’t see all of it at this time. My dad and Frank didn’t see it because they were too focused on keeping the dogs on the trail, and I have no idea how the dogs didn’t notice it. I guess they were too focused on the scent of raccoons since that’s what they were bred to hunt. I tugged at my dad’s arm trying to get his attention, but he just told me to hush so I wouldn’t scare off the raccoons. I looked back up to the hill and didn’t see the thing anymore.

When we finally got to the part of the woods we were aiming for, I looked to my right again and saw this absolutely huge shadow walk into the woods about 200 yards away from us and I almost shouted from surprise and fear, but I managed to keep my composure. I told my dad I had seen something terrifying walk into the same part of the forest we were about to go into but he just told me to stop goofing around, passing it off as my imagination seeing things. At this point I was terrified, but I stayed right next to my dad since he had a gun in case we ran up on this thing I saw.

We hadn’t walk 20 yards into the treeline before Frank’s dog picked up a scent and tore off at a dead sprint to our right, barking as loud as I’ve ever heard a dog bark. We started chasing after the dog, but made a dead stop when we heard the most terrifying scream any of us had ever heard. It rattled my chest from how deep and loud it was. Right after the scream, Frank’s dog stopped barking and went straight into a yelp, like a dog that was getting repeatedly hit. It came sprinting back as fast as it could and didn’t stop when it got back to us, it went straight between us and darted right out of the woods like it was being chased.

Right after the dog passed by us, Frank started chasing it down to catch it, and right then we heard something big and fast crashing through the woods from where the dog and the scream came. We all instantly went into a dead sprint back out of the woods and straight to the truck.

Before we got to the truck, I looked back and saw this thing standing upright at the treeline we had just bolted out of, staring us down. It looked about 7 or 8 feet tall as best I could tell, and it had stopped chasing us when we got into the clearing. I could hardly tell any features of the creature as the sky was overcast so the moon wasn’t shining out in the darkness. All I could tell is that it was a very dark color, maybe dark brown or black. Frank and my dad were so scared that they didn’t take any time to look back, they just hurriedly got the dogs back into their boxes and got into the truck as quick as humanly possible, and Frank got us the hell out of those woods going about 80mph back to his house. We locked everything down and spent the night at Frank’s place, but none of us slept a wink. We didn’t experience anything else and finally left when the sun was up.

Frank sold his property shortly after and told us his fearless dog refused to go back into any woods for any reason. My dad apologized for ignoring my warnings and rarely ever went hunting again.”