Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I live in southwestern Virginia and have experienced several strange incidents on my property over the last four years.

I grew up on my family’s 400 acres of wooded mountain land and have spent most of my life there. I’m 41 years old and have worked in law enforcement (corrections) for the past 19 years. I know these woods better than just about anyone, and I’ve never been someone who scares easily. About four years ago, I was deer hunting by myself, something I’d been doing since I was 13 years old. Two days earlier, I’d taken a doe with my bow from the same stand I was sitting in that day.

That morning was completely normal until around noon.

Without warning, the woods went silent. It was as if every bird, squirrel, and insect had simply ceased to exist. The only sounds I could hear were my own heartbeat and my breathing. Every hair on my body stood up, and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of panic unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

The best way I can describe it is that I felt spiritually unclean like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d been walking those woods since I was eight years old, and I’d never felt anything remotely like it. Every instinct I had told me to jump out of my stand and run. Instead, I forced myself to stay calm. I scanned the woods one last time in every direction, climbed down from my stand, checked my rifle, and started the roughly 450-yard walk back toward the clearing where my house sits.

Not long after I started walking, I heard leaves being disturbed off to my right.

I stopped.

The sound stopped.

I started walking again.

It started walking again.

The more I listened, the more convinced I became that something on two legs was pacing me just out of sight, probably over the next ridge.

After I’d covered around 100 yards, things escalated.

Something charged me. It sounded like a freight train crashing through the woods far more noise than any bear I’ve ever encountered could make. I spun around expecting to see a bear, but there was nothing there. Just empty forest. Whatever it was had come incredibly close, I’d estimate within about 20 yards.

I raised my rifle and scanned the woods for several minutes. Nothing. I lowered the rifle, turned to continue walking, and it happened again. In total, I was charged six separate times. Each charge sounded just as violent as the first. Each one came just as close. And every single time, when I turned to confront whatever was making the noise, there was absolutely nothing there. By the end of it, I was so shaken that I walked the final hundred yards out of the mountain backward with my rifle shouldered, expecting something to appear at any second.

Nothing else happened.

When I got home, I unloaded my rifle, put my hunting clothes away, and never mentioned the incident to my wife or kids. I simply sat down and watched TV. Looking back, what’s almost as strange as the encounter itself is how I handled it afterward. I tend to overanalyze everything, yet I barely thought about that experience for almost two years. It was like my mind had completely filed it away.

At the time, I believed Bigfoot could exist, but it never once crossed my mind during the encounter. It wasn’t until years later, after listening to your show and discussing it with a friend, that I began to think that might have been what happened. I haven’t been hunting since.

A few nights after that incident, I was sitting around the fire pit with my wife and kids. We were laughing, making s’mores, and enjoying the evening. Suddenly, from the tree line about 40 yards away, we heard what sounded like an owl. The problem was… it didn’t sound right. It sounded like someone trying to imitate an owl. Even stranger, it seemed like multiple voices were making the call at the same time, all coming from the same location. Instantly, the hair on my arms stood up again.

I looked at my wife and kids, and they were already staring at me with the same expression of shock.

I quietly told everyone to get up, and we calmly walked back into the house. Our dogs reacted to the sound, but they refused to bark.

Fast forward to Hurricane Helene.

We were hit hard. Trees were down everywhere, homes were damaged, and we lost power for several days. My mother came to my house and insisted I come outside and listen. She said she’d been hearing trees breaking and crashing on the mountain for nearly twenty minutes straight. According to her, it sounded like a war zone. The strange part was that we’d already been in that exact area earlier that day, disposing of nearly three refrigerator-loads of spoiled food after the power outage. At that point, my mother didn’t believe in Bigfoot.

I stepped onto the porch but didn’t hear anything. After a few minutes, I picked up a walking stick. My mom asked what I was doing, and I jokingly replied, “I’m making a phone call.” I knocked three times on the porch railing.

Three knocks immediately came back from the mountain, matching my exact rhythm.

I knocked twice.

Two knocks answered.

Then I made three single knocks, pausing between each one.

Each knock received an immediate response.

Every response came from the same area where my mother had been hearing the trees breaking and where we’d left the spoiled food. The look on her face said everything. Her eyes were as big as dinner plates. We both knew there was no one up there.

Then, over the last five months, something even stranger has started happening. On three separate nights, something has struck the outside wall of my bedroom with enough force to wake me up from a dead sleep. I’ve actually felt the impact through the wall. My girlfriend has experienced it too. There are no plumbing pipes or anything inside that wall that could explain it.

Each time, the dogs react but just like before, they won’t bark.

I don’t know what any of this means.

I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. I’m simply sharing what I’ve experienced on property I’ve known my entire life. I’ve spent decades in law enforcement, and I like to think I’m a rational person who looks for ordinary explanations first.

But I can’t explain these experiences.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story, and thank you for everything you do.”