Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “Hey Wes, I first heard your show a few years ago. Since then, I have been thinking about contacting you. I had two encounters that I’m certain of in north central VT. As near as I can recall, they happened in 1995 and 1996. I’m not 100% about the years, but I know that’s pretty close. I am certain that they happened in back to back years. The first time I actually saw the creature.

I’m texting you on my phone, and it’s slow and cumbersome. So I will keep it brief. I had a prepared spot for sitting. There are two types of hunting, sitting or stalking. This particular day was good for stalking. Meaning that the weather was miserable. There was a heavy wet snow falling. One degree warmer it would have been raining. If I were an enthusiastic hunter, I would have been tracking a buck and hoping to catch him laying down. But I’m not. I didn’t feel like getting soaked and dragging a dead deer up out of the swamp. I don’t really hunt for the kill anyway. I do it for the solitude. It’s kinda therapeutic for me.

Back to the point. I had been sitting under a blue spruce tree all day. It’s foliage protecting me from the weather. Near the end of the day, I was starting to think about leaving before it got dark, when a buck came walking along the game trail. This was about 50 yards from where I was sitting across a small field. I pulled up my riffle (Remington .308) and got in my scope (4×9) and some instinct told me not to shoot that deer. And, to be completely honest, that instinct might have been my brain asking, “Do you really want to drag this thing a mile through the woods in the dark, in this weather?”

Anyway, I tracked this deer through my scope until it disappeared into tree line. The very moment the deer stepped out of sight around another spruce, Sasquatch stepped in from the side of the same tree that the deer had just passed. He took one or two steps, and paused to look straight at me. I was looking back at him through my scope. My cross hairs were centered on his right eye. He was frickin massive. I simply could not wrap my mind around how thick he was.

To give some scale, when came out of the tree line, he passed by an old fence post that I know was about four and a half feet high, this guy was more than twice that. I would put him at at least nine feet. Probably more.

He turned towards me, only his upper body, his feet remained pointed in the direction of the deer. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was thinking, “If you come at me, you’re going down.” I remember keeping my scope on his eye and saying under my breath, “Don’t do it Buddy. Don’t do it.” Then he turned back and followed the deer.

There are, of course, more details, but I hate texting.”